


on the cusp

by ronanlynchisneversleepingagain



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, Mentions of homophobia, hockey injury, lots of swearing, mentions of past pimms, mentions of zimbits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-05-26 12:29:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15000908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ronanlynchisneversleepingagain/pseuds/ronanlynchisneversleepingagain
Summary: Years later, the way Jeff remembered it was this: Jack Zimmermann came out to millions of people by kissing his boyfriend at the SCF and then everything went to absolute shit. At the time, it was a bit more nuanced.





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rianne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rianne/gifts).



> *squints at the 'BB' part of 'KPBB'* ohhhhhh that was for 'birthday bash' and not 'big bang'? my bad, my bad.

  
[ 5:21 AM  

FROM: Scraps

TO: Jeff ]

 

_yo did parser go home w some1 last nite?_

 

[ 5:25 AM  

FROM: Jeff

TO: Scraps ]

 

_no & stop using yo gdi _

_also stop texting me at the buttcrack of dawn_

 

A moment later, his phone rang instead and Jeff groaned, rolling away from it and stuffing his head under his pillow. It wasn’t until his phone took a short break and started up again that he reached over and pulled the phone from its charging cable.

“What the fuck, Scraps?” he said, muffled by his pillow and his hangover.

“He doesn’t answer the door,” Scraps said.

“What?” Jeff repeated.

Scraps huffed on the other end of the line.

“Pars-er,” he said slowly, enunciating it in his heavily accented English the way he did when he was especially annoyed or thought a reporter was treating him like an idiot just because he was Russian.

Jeff huffed back.

“He’s not answering his door at 5:30 fucking A.M.? Shocking.”

“Am supposed to take him to airport,” Scraps said.

“What? Right now?” Jeff said.

Scraps huffed again.

“He doesn’t answer.”

“Okay,” Jeff said. “So let him miss his stupid flight and let me sleep.”

“I have flight too,” Scraps said. “So you will check on him later.”

“Why?”

“Make sure he not drown,” Scraps said.

“Oh my God, please just let me go back to sleep.”

“You check on him,” Scraps said again. Not a question. “I go home.”

“Fine,” Jeff agreed. “Go back to the fucking Motherland. But for the last time, I’m not his fucking keeper and —“

Scraps hung up on him before he could even finish the thought and Jeff made a grunt of disbelief as he heard the line go dead. This is why Scraps was more Kent’s friend this his, no matter how many times Kent tried to get them to hang out with each other.

“Fucker,” he said and threw his phone back on the nightstand before crashing face first back into his pillow.

 

* * *

  


Several hours later, Jeff let himself into Kent’s apartment with the spare key he had tucked in his car’s glove compartment. He’d caught a few more hours of sleep and then finally headed over to Kent’s place when Scraps’ texts got too annoying to keep ignoring. When he’d arrived at the sleek high-rise that Kent lived in, he’d buzzed up to Kent’s condo three times before finally punching in the access code he had saved in his phone because if he didn’t get a live shot of Kent soon, Scraps was gonna make them turn his stupid plane around.

“Parser, I’m coming in,” he yelled into the front hallway of Kent’s condo before quickly shutting the door, just in time to block a streaking grey cat from escaping through the opening. “I’m on to you,” he sniped at the cat. “Don’t even try it.”

Kit snarked back with a petulant meow and took a swipe at his ankle before trotting back to the den to jump up on her cat tree. He followed her and was rewarded by the soft murmur of the TV in the den, but when he ducked his head in, there was no sign of Kent. The TV was on the NHL Network running Jack Zimmermann’s boneheaded kiss stunt at the Stanley Cup Final Game last night on endless loop.

Jeff turned and headed further into the house until, finally, he spotted the top of Kent’s head just over the counter of the island. He leaned against the other side of the island and sighed loudly. He saw Kent start visibly, but Kent didn’t turn around.

“Scraps thinks you’re dead,” Jeff said amiably.

Kent grunted noncommittally. Jeff came around the counter and took in the full situation. He took off his hat and threw it on the kitchen counter before crouching down next to where Kent was sitting in nothing but his boxers on the cold tile floor. He was drinking straight from the bottle and looked like he had been at it for a while.

“Jesus, for someone who seems so put together, you are a fucking disaster, Parser,” Jeff swore.

“Thanks,” Kent mumbled and took another swig of tequila. Jeff snatched it from Kent’s hands and put it out of reach.

“Wasn’t a compliment,” he said. He squatted down next to Kent and looked him over.  “Gonna tell me what this is all about?”

Kent sighed heavily, looking far more tragic than Jeff thought was strictly necessary before noon.

“S’not important,” Kent said and leaned his cheek against the cabinet behind him. His lip jutted out in a pout.

“Parser,” Jeff said, trying a more gentle tack this time. “It’s barely eleven o’clock and you’re drinking hard liquor straight from the bottle. You missed your flight this morning and didn’t even text Scrappy to tell him you were okay. None of that screams ‘Kent Parson’ to me.”

“I’m just…” Kent said and then frowned, his eyes focusing on Jeff. “It’s fine. It’s not important.”

“Kent,” Jeff said flatly.

Kent swallowed visibly and looked towards the open bar of his kitchen that looked out into the living room where the TV was still playing. Jeff followed his gaze and frowned.

“This about that whole mess?”

Kent flinched and Jeff turned back to him. Kent seemed to be chewing on his words and Jeff wasn’t sure if it was because he was already trashed or if he wasn’t sure what to say. Maybe both. He raised his eyebrows and waited.

“I loved him,” Kent said finally, not meeting Jeff’s eyes as he stared straight ahead into the living room. Jeff froze.

“What?” he asked. “Parse, I --”

“I don’t think I do anymore,” Kent interrupted. Kent nodded to himself, his lips pursing as if he had just sucked on something sour.

Jeff snapped his own mouth shut, very aware that he was gaping. His eyes drifted back to the TV as he took in the desk full of asshole analysts pontificating about Jack Zimmermann’s sexuality before he looked back to Kent. His brain felt as if it was in the middle of a sudden and cataclysmic reprogramming as he absorbed this new information about Kent.

Jeff stood up abruptly. Kent was still stubbornly not looking at him and for a horrible second, Jeff thought Kent might be crying. He turned around and reached up to start rifling through Kent’s cabinets. It took him a few moments to find the motley collection of shot glasses shoved behind the nicer wine glasses Kent had neatly arranged up front. He pulled out two of them and grabbed the tequila from the island counter.

“What’re you doing?” Kent asked at last, sounding surprised. Jeff looked down at him and shrugged.

“If we’re going to get black out drunk over this, I refuse to drink straight out of the bottle like some teenaged idiot.”

“You’re staying?” Kent asked, clearly surprised.

Jeff didn’t answer him, refused to even dignify Kent’s surprise with an answer, but handed him a shot glass full of tequila instead.

“Do you even have salt?” Jeff asked, wrinkling his nose as he sniffed the shot he’d kept back for himself.

“Was supposed t’go home this morning,” Kent said, considering the shot in his hand. “Threw it all out.”

Jeff didn’t wait for Kent to make up his mind about his shot and threw his back with a wince before quickly tipping more tequila in his glass. He would need a few more to get on Kent’s level anyway, especially if Kent was really going to spend the day moping and revealing henceforth unknown personal details to Jeff.

Several shots later, they had made it to the living room and Jeff had wrested the remote from Kent’s control and turned the TV to an innocuous home improvement show while Kent sat on the other end of the couch and stroked Kit with both hands.

“Parser?” Jeff asked softly as Kent slumped against the couch.

“Yeah?”

“It’s gonna be okay,” Jeff said.

Kent raised a single eyebrow at him but then raised his glass to clink it against Jeff’s.

“Cheers to that,” Kent said flatly.

 

* * *

  
  


Jeff woke up in Kent’s bed the next morning, still mostly dressed, with his head pounding. He groaned and turned over to shove his face in the pillow when he realized that Kent had the TV on again. He was sitting up against the headboard next to Jeff looking as rough as Jeff had ever seen him. Jeff barely had to glance at the TV to see it was still the same bullshit coverage about Zimmermann.

“You promised you wouldn’t watch anymore of it,” Jeff said, collapsing back into his pillow.

“Yeah, well,” Kent said with an aborted shrug. “I lied.”

“Turn it off,” Jeff said. “Stop torturing yourself. And me. Stop torturing me.”

“You don’t have to stay,” Kent said, not taking his eyes off the TV.

Jeff sighed and reluctantly pulled himself up to sitting.

“Kent,” he said softly. “Please turn it off.”

Kent didn’t say anything but after a moment of pursed lips, he reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the remote to flick the TV off. Jeff let out a deep breath and leaned his head back against the headboard, looking up at the ceiling. He could practically hear Kent brooding next to him, but it took a while for him to actually come out with it.

“Sometimes it’s like he died,” Kent said into the stark silence between them.

Jeff’s head snapped up as he looked over at Kent.

“What?” he asked sharply.

“Jack,” Kent said, as if that explained anything. “Sometimes...I just, I look at him and see a totally different person now and it’s like the Jack I knew actually died back then and this new Jack is just...someone who looks like him, but isn’t.”

“Jesus fuck, Parser,” Jeff swore under his breath because he meant it, but also because he had no idea what else he could possibly say to that.

“You don’t have to stay,” Kent repeated, this time smaller and so unlike himself that Jeff actually had to double-check he wasn’t crying.

Jeff didn’t particularly want to stay, but he also knew he wouldn’t be leaving any time soon. Not with Kent in this kind of state - it was completely uncharted territory. In the six years that Jeff had been playing with Kent, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen this side of Kent, but he was sure that he definitely should not be leaving him alone anytime soon especially since it seemed he was probably the last person in town equipped to deal with it now that Scraps had fucked off back to Russia. He sighed and ran a hand across his face before scooting closer to throw an arm around Kent and hug him close.

“I promised Scraps I wouldn’t let you drown in tequila,” Jeff said and Kent grunted in protest even though he undeniably smelled like he had tequila coming through his pores. Jeff wasn’t sure he smelled much better himself. “Go take a shower and we can get lunch or something.”

 

* * *

  
  


Kent boarded a flight for New York two days later. Jeff drove him to the airport and hugged him goodbye at the drop-off doors. Kent hugged him back and smiled wanly at him before throwing a peace sign and disappearing inside. Jeff lingered outside the terminal until the parking attendant angrily waved him out nearly twenty minutes later, half-expecting for Kent to burst back through the doors and announce he was staying in Nevada for the summer after all, but he didn’t and Jeff left the airport alone.

Jeff stuck out the week in Vegas, closing up his condo for the summer and making sure two of the rookies paid a decent cleaning service to clean out their rented house before disappearing into the wind. Then when he had nothing more to do, he finally threw his bags into his SUV and hit the road.  He didn’t have his first session with his trainer Sven until Wednesday of next week. It was only Thursday, so he didn’t have to leave for L.A. just yet, but there was no reason for him to stay any longer and his skin was starting to itch from the dry desert heat. Not that summers in L.A. were much better, but that’s where Sven was and so that’s where Jeff was going too, even if it did mean he had to share his training sessions with two Kings.

Last year, Kent had expended considerable energy trying to convince Jeff to ditch Sven for his New York-based trainer and Jeff had expended as much energy telling Kent that the only way he was going to New York to train was if Sven suddenly decided he didn’t like the California sunshine anymore and moved there himself. This year they had had an unspoken truce on the matter, although Kent had asked Jeff to at least come up in July for his birthday. Well, Kent had announced that Jeff was coming up whether he wanted to or not, more like. Jeff hoped by the time July 4th rolled around, Kent would look a little less sad. He wasn’t sure if he could handle seeing him cry again any time soon.

Jeff took his time settling into his rented apartment for the summer - it was pre-furnished and a little strangely decorated with a mish-mash of Spanish tile and an inexplicable indoor waterfall in the front foyer, but it was also right around the corner from Sven’s gym and there was a small grocery store and a few restaurants on the first floor.

Jeff liked L.A. for the most part - he never drew so much as a second look when he was out and about, blending in with the local population even with a grocery cart overflowing with protein powder and lean cuts of meat. On his fifth day in the apartment, stir-crazy and ready for his summer training to start, he sent Kent and Scraps both a video of the strange waterfall in his foyer. He received a string of unintelligible emojis back from Scrappy almost immediately. Kent didn’t respond until hours later, though, calling Jeff right as he was plating his dinner and heading to the living room to eat.

He put Kent on speakerphone so he could shove his roasted tomatoes in his mouth and talk at the same time.

“Hey, man, how’s New York?”

“Why do you have a waterfall in your fucking hallway?” Kent asked instead of answering. “What’s the point of that?”

“Dunno,” Jeff said. “I’ve been trying to figure it out since I got here. I don’t really understand how to turn it off either.”

“You could probably just ask,” Kent said.

“Mmm, yeah, probably,” Jeff agreed, even though they both knew he never would, even if it meant the water would stay on an endless loop all summer.

“You start up with your program yet?” Kent asked after a beat of silence.

“No, got a couple more days.”

Silence fell between them again and Jeff could almost hear Kent thinking on the other end. He rolled his eyes and shoved more of his dinner in his mouth while he waited for Kent to just come out with it.

“Swoops,” Kent said. “I, uh, I wanted to thank you.”

Jeff’s fork froze midway to his mouth. They hadn’t mentioned Kent’s revelation since that night and fuck if Jeff was going to ever be the first person to bring it up in a conversation, not since it clearly had cost so much for Kent to say it in the first place.

“Nothing to thank me for, Parser,” Jeff said as casually as he could. “I contributed to, and I quote, ‘the worst hangover of your fucking life’, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Kent said. “But it, uh, you know, meant a lot.”

“Jesus, sincere is a bad look on you,” Jeff grumbled.

Kent barked a laugh, sounding almost natural again, and then without any interlude launched into a story about his cat. And that was that. Back to normal.

Jeff felt a weird pang of disappointment at the whole thing being swept under the rug again, neat and tidy. He thought of Kent, sitting there in nothing but his boxers in his kitchen as he watched the highlight reel of his ex-boyfriend winning the Stanley Cup and coming out of the closet all in one fell swoop, and then he just couldn’t stop thinking about it. He wanted to bring it up at every turn of conversation and ask how Kent was doing with all of it, but Kent remained firmly and frustratingly silent on the subject. It was as if Jack Zimmermann didn’t even exist, like all the tequila they’d drunk that night had just washed it away forever. Jeff knew that wasn’t the case.

  


* * *

  
  
  


It was nearly a month into the summer by the time it came up in the training room.

“You see that Deadspin article, man?” Ponder asked as they finished their last set that day. Metcalfe beside him grunted dismissively, but Jeff took the bait.

“About?” he asked.

“Trash,” Metcalfe said.

“There’s another gay player who might come out soon apparently,” Ponder answered, ignoring Metcalfe entirely.

“Oh?” Jeff said as neutrally as he could. His stomach had dropped precipitously and he was sure his face must be doing something weird so he grabbed a towel and buried his head in it, shaking his sweaty hair out as they walked together to the locker room.

“Doesn’t say who it is,” Ponder continued despite Metcalfe’s obvious annoyance at the subject. “But I bet it’s that ginger fuck from Edmonton. Always looked like a real fairy to me. Can barely take a hit.”

“Ponder,” Metcalfe said in a surprisingly cutting tone. Jeff shot him a glance and was doubly surprised to see the storm clouds on his face. “I told you I’m sick of you talking about this shit like this. Cut it out or learn some decency.”

“Oh, fuck off, Metty,” Ponder said. “No one cares but you. Right, Swoops?”

“I, uh…” Jeff trailed off, completely dumbstruck at the sudden turn. He cleared his throat and threw a panicked look towards Metcalfe who was looking at him with measured disapproval. “I think I agree with Metty, actually.”

It came out almost as a question, but Jeff nodded to himself to confirm it before ducking his head and continuing on towards the locker room despite Ponder’s sound of low disgust. He felt sick to his stomach when he showered that afternoon and kept feeling sick after, even when Metcalfe clapped him on the shoulder in the parking lot before he left. He went back to his stupid rented apartment with its stupid waterfall and looked up the Deadspin article, leaning into the sickness in the pit of his stomach.

It was just as awful as he might have imagined it to be - full of blind item type gossip and out-of-context quotes from anonymous sources that cobbled together a picture of a tortured, closeted gay man who lived in terror of being out but had found hope in Jack Zimmermann’s coming out. Jeff read it three times before deciding it couldn’t possibly be about Kent. Read it one more time before he shut off his computer and left his apartment for an impromptu walk to get some air.

He wasn’t sure where his head was at anymore these days.

 

* * *

  
  


The next day, Metcalfe stopped him in the parking lot after Ponder had already left and invited him to dinner at his place with his wife on their next off-day. Jeff said ‘yes’ embarrassingly quickly, but Metcalfe had just nodded as if he expected no less and gave Jeff the address before getting in his own car and driving away.

Two days later, Jeff found Metcalfe’s house with relative ease, tucked into an upscale neighborhood in north L.A but instead of just going inside, he circled the block three times until his heart stopped trying to tear itself loose from his chest. He was nervous for no good reason. He thought more than once about just leaving and driving back to his stupid, badly decorated apartment and telling Metcalfe he wasn’t up to it after all, but then as he circled the block again, the porch light came on and Metcalfe himself stepped out, squinting in the direction of Jeff’s car and waving. Jeff pulled up to the curb a moment later and got out, doing his best to pretend like he hadn’t been lurking outside for almost 20 minutes.

“Uh, sorry,” Jeff said as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked up the drive.

Metcalfe gave him a weird look.

“For what?” he said. “You’re right on time, kid.”

“Oh,” Jeff said. “I guess I thought I was late.”

Metcalfe clapped him on the shoulder and guided him inside.

“Nope,” he said. “I think Irene was actually just thanking your mother for giving you the good sense to come 10 minutes after I told you to, so she could finish picking up the den.”

“Oh my _god_ , Danny,” a female voice yelled from another room deeper in the house. “Don’t tell him that!”

A moment later, a willowy brunette appeared out from behind a wall and smiled hugely at him. She had on a pair of skinny jeans and a flowing pink silk blouse that was the perfect color against her tanned skin and wouldn’t have looked out of place at a PTO meeting or a neighborhood association meeting or something like that. She shook his hand firmly and introduced herself.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Irene said. “Honestly, Danny has been so pleased to have you in training with him this summer. He was worried you’d be just like Ponder, I think.”

Irene winked at him and Metcalfe swatted at her before laughing softly.

“Don’t tell him that,” he said, mocking the way she had said it a minute before. She swatted back and shrugged conspiratorially at Jeff.

“C’mon into the kitchen,” she said. “Everything’s ready to serve. We’ve got some carnitas and all the fixings for you.”

Jeff was completely and totally charmed before he’d gotten halfway through the meal. After they’d eaten and thoroughly showered Irene with praise for the carnitas, Metcalfe handed Jeff a beer and headed out to the porch with him where he turned on a small gas fire pit that flickered silently in the growing dark. They drank in relative silence, just enjoying the still warm air and a light breeze.

“My little brother is gay,” Metcalfe said out of nowhere.

Jeff blinked at him.

“Okay,” he said.

“Stopped playing when he hit high school,” Metcalfe continued. “Couldn’t take it anymore.”

Metcalfe pursed his lips and shook his head.

“I still…” Metcalfe trailed off. “I still feel guilty about it, you know? That he quit and I didn’t do anything to help him. I got drafted the year before and was so busy trying not to get sent down that I didn’t really keep track of him like I should have. Then I came home that summer and he told me he quit and that was that.”

Jeff nodded, unsure why Metcalfe was telling him all of this. He fiddled with his hands in his lap and was glad for the relative darkness of the porch.

“All that to say - I’m glad there’s guys like Zimmermann putting their necks out there,” Metcalfe said as if he divined the very thing that Jeff was thinking. “And I’ll be glad when he’s not the only one.”

Jeff sipped on his beer thoughtfully, peeling the label off his hands.

“Do you know of anyone else who might?” Jeff finally asked, his words slow and deliberate.

“I’ve known a few guys in my day,” Metcalfe said. In the flickering light, Jeff saw him raise a single eyebrow at him. Jeff looked away, unsure what that could mean right now. He told himself that when his brain flashed to Kent that it was just because his new knowledge of Kent’s sexuality and that it had nothing to do with how it had kept him up for almost every night, thinking about what it might be like to kiss Kent Parson.

“Yeah,” he said instead, staring out into the dark yard. “Me too.”

  


* * *

  


Marchy came down to L.A. in late June to film some commercial for an insurance company that had him doing stupid driving stunts and Jeff let him crash at his apartment for the week even though he could definitely afford his own hotel room instead of the stiff guest bedroom mattress Jeff had to offer. Marchy spent the first two days fastidiously documenting every inch of weird decor in the apartment for snapchat, narrating his clips as if it were a nature documentary or some shit like that, but then settled down into his more normal video-gaming and TV diet that Jeff was familiar with after a year and a half of living with him when he was still a rookie.

It was late one afternoon as they presided over take-out and ESPN that a short clip of Jack Zimmermann giving an interview with some mainstream journalist played. Zimmermann looked wildly uncomfortable and Jeff kind of thought he deserved every moment of it, but then immediately felt bad for thinking that and turned back to his lo mein without comment. Marchy didn’t say anything either, but watched the interview clip with keen interest, his face thoughtful. Jeff tried not to watch his expression, but found himself looking out of the corner of his eye anyways.

“How would you feel if someone on the Aces came out?” Jeff blurted out, immediately wishing he could stuff every single word back in his mouth and leave. Marchy looked momentarily stunned before putting down his fork and bobbing his head, agreeing with some unknown question.

“You want to come out?” he asked wonderingly.

“No! Wait, what?” Jeff asked, confused. “You think I’m gay?”

Now it was Marchy’s turn to look confused. He was quickly turning bright red.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just like, assume? But, dude, I have literally never seen you bring home a chick,” Marchy said, looking a little put out. “And it’s not like they’re never interested,” he added with a grumble.

“I —“ Jeff sputtered, his mind completely blank. “I’m just not usually interested.”

“Right,” Marchy said as if that was a very obvious thing to say. “Because…”

“I don’t — I mean, I’m not —” Jeff said. “I’ve slept with women before.”

“Dude, it’s fine,” Marchy said. “Forget I said that. I’m sorry.”

Jeff’s brain felt like it was short-circuiting again. It wasn’t like he hadn’t spent the entire summer wrestling with the idea that Kent was gay and wondering why it mattered so much to him, why it had kept him up more than one night. And it also wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about other men too, at least in passing, fleeting thoughts about what it might be like to kiss them or get down on his knees for them. But he wasn’t gay. Not exactly, anyways.

“I don’t really know what I am,” Jeff finally let out, all in a rush, and felt his face heat up.

“Eh…what? Sorry?” Marchy said. Marchy had frozen mid-bite and carefully put his chopsticks down to gape at Jeff. Jeff fervently hoped he’d been a little better at reacting when Kent had come out to him, but he somehow doubted it. Jeff cleared his throat and fixed his eyes on the TV so he could look anywhere except Marchy as he ground out the next few sentences.

“I just mean…I’ve definitely been with women and liked it fine,” Jeff said. He blushed and ducked his head. “But I just…I mean, I think, at least, I could like someone who isn’t…a woman?”

Marchy was all but gaping at him from across the table.

“Okay,” Marchy said slowly. Then, again with more feeling, “Okay, dude.”

“Okay?” Jeff repeated.

Marchy let out a huge gust of air and sat back in his seat to give Jeff an appraising look.

“Definitely okay,” Marchy said. “Have you ever told anyone before?”

“No,” Jeff said definitively. He honestly wasn’t even sure that he’d known it himself until just then.

Marchy whistled.

“Not even Parser?” he asked as if it was truly shocking.

“Uh, no,” Jeff confirmed, coloring even more at the thought of Kent. “Not even Parser.”

Marchy shook his head.

“He’s gonna be so pissed you told me first,” he said, a slow grin creeping onto his face.

“Yeah, well, keep it to yourself for now, okay?” Jeff grumbled even though he knew that Marchy wasn’t the sort to spread secrets around.

“Of course,” Marchy said solemnly, as though Jeff had just entrusted a state secret to him. Then, with his usual grin back in place, he leaned forward and said, “But for the love of God, please tell me when you do tell him because I have got to chirp him about this.”

Jeff threw a noodle at him and Marchy roared with laughter before picking it up off the floor and crunching down on it with relish in spite of Jeff’s disgust.

 

* * *

  
  


Kent was idling his car outside the airport when Jeff walked out the doors. Before Jeff could even wave, Kent had thrown his door open and walked around the car to hug him. Kent was in his typical ridiculous summer garb of an overlarge tank top and shorts, sunglasses perched atop wild blonde hair. Jeff was stupidly glad to see him.

“Hey, Parser,” Jeff laughed as Kent hugged him tightly. “Good to see you too.”

“Shut up,” Kent mumbled as he pulled away, knocking Jeff’s hat off on purpose. Jeff picked it up off the ground and put it back on while Kent opened the hatch of the Jeep he was driving and let Jeff throw his bags inside.

Jeff climbed into the Jeep without another word, unable to wipe the wide smile off his own face even though he knew that he looked ridiculous. Kent peeled out of the queue and someone behind them honked angrily which made Jeff laugh. Kent threw up a finger and honked back before hitting the gas only to slam on the brakes a moment later as they hit the traffic.

“What?” Kent asked as he flipped his sunglasses down.

“Nothing, it’s just nice to see you in your natural habitat,” Jeff said honestly and then, because he couldn’t help himself, “You look good.”

Kent tried to duck his head away, but Jeff saw the slight blush at the tips of his ears and his smile somehow grew even larger. He looked out the window as he tried to tame it into something a little more normal. He wasn’t sure exactly what had gotten into him, but he was happier to see Kent than he thought he would be and besides, Kent did look good. He had gained several pounds since Jeff had seen him last and his summer bulk was settling nicely on his broad shoulders and thick arms.

“My place doesn’t have a waterfall,” Kent said as they sat in traffic in an otherwise comfortable silence. “Think you’re gonna survive?”

Jeff snorted and didn’t reply, instead he just turned the radio up as some awful pop song came on. Kent smirked at his own joke anyway and bopped his head to the song, mouthing lyrics as they inched closer to the city.

“You didn’t have to pick me up,” Jeff said.

“I know,” Kent said. “But I wanted to torture you in three hours of traffic to make sure you got a proper welcome.”

“Three hours, huh?” Jeff asked.

Kent laughed and then looked over to Jeff, eyes twinkling.

“Nah, once we make the turn-off up here, it’s only about 20 minutes to home,” he admitted. “You’ll live.”

Jeff had never been to Albany before, but he was having a hard time even absorbing the scenery because his excitement at seeing Kent again was making his stomach flip uncomfortably every time he looked over at Kent. They had only been apart for a month at the most, but it had been too long and Skype calls weren’t the same. True to Kent’s word, soon enough they were pulling up to a modestly sized farmhouse along a tree-lined private road. Jeff whistled in appreciation.

“Just you and Kit in all that house, huh?” he asked.

Kent shrugged and unbuckled his seatbelt before pausing.

“My parents aren’t far from here,” he said as way of explanation. “And there’s a private rink a few miles away.”

“It’s nice, Parser,” Jeff said sincerely. “Just, you know…a lot different from your Vegas digs.”

He thought of the sleek condo in a high-rise that Kent had back in Vegas and tried to reconcile the two as Kent shrugged again and got out of the Jeep to grab Jeff’s bags before Jeff could get to them. When Jeff tried to at least grab his duffel from Kent’s shoulder, Kent shoved him and strode purposefully towards the house.

“Make sure she doesn’t run,” Kent called over his shoulder as he keyed in his lock code on the door. Jeff rolled his eyes. As if he really needed a reminder to watch out for Kit trying to escape after all this time. It was practically second-nature to block her door dashes at this point. Like clockwork, Kit was there to greet them at the door and Jeff scooped her up despite her yowls of protest as soon as she came within arms’ length as Kent shuffled past the door with his bags. Jeff shut the door behind him before letting Kit down. She flicked her tail unhappily at him. He pulled a face back at her.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


The Fourth of July was hot and sticky before ten o’clock in the morning even rolled around, so the oppressive heat that evening was hardly a surprise. Jeff and Kent had spent the day before driving to get fireworks and beer and then most of the morning celebrating with Kent’s family at a picnic so traditional and American that Jeff half-expected a bald eagle to drop in for a hot dog at some point. By the time they made it back to Kent’s house, Jeff was bone-tired and sticky from the heat. He stripped his shirt as soon as he stepped out of the Jeep and shook himself a little to wake up.

“Going soft on me, Troy?” Kent asked and Jeff started when he realized Kent was watching him from the other side of the Jeep with a strange look on his face.

“I could do another round for the birthday boy,” Jeff said with a smile. “Wanna go poolside though? I feel gross after all those hot dogs.”

“Sure thing,” Kent said, already heading back to the house. “You bring a suit?”

“Nope,” Jeff said.

“I have extras,” Kent said.

“Figured.”

Kent’s extras turned out to be the most ridiculous pair of swimming trunks Jeff had ever seen, covered with rubber ducks grinning up at him but they were a size too big for Kent and still snug on Jeff, so he was stuck with them either way. Kent smirked, obviously pleased, and chose a still obnoxious, but less ridiculous pair that had an American flag all over them.

Kent produced a cooler from some closet and threw all the ice he could get out of his freezer into it before also dumping two six packs of beer from the fridge in.

“Dude, there is no way we’re finishing that,” Jeff said doubtfully as Kent hauled it outside.

“Probably not,” he agreed. “But just in case, we wouldn’t want to have to go back in for more.”

“Just in case,” Jeff echoed doubtfully.

Kent threw himself down into one of the lawn chairs almost immediately, but Jeff went straight for the pool, diving in from the board and submerging himself. He swam a few laps while Kent watched, until finally pulling himself up to the ledge and floating there. Kent deigned to get up from the lawn chair to pass him a beer. Jeff tipped it to him in silent cheers before taking a drink.

“You not going to join me?” he asked. Kent looked at him appraisingly, his mouth twisted into a strange frown all of a sudden, before he knocked his own beer back and looked away from Jeff.

“I think you’re supposed to say ‘no homo’ or something after that,” Kent said dryly.

Jeff froze uncomfortably and studied Kent’s carefully casual body language. They hadn’t talked about that day in Kent’s condo since it happened, but Jeff thought it was because Kent wanted to put it behind him, not because he thought Jeff was a ticking time bomb of homophobia. Jeff wasn’t sure how to respond to that exactly. He cleared his throat, but when he couldn’t think of anything to say, he took another swig of his beer instead. Kent frowned at him.

“You don’t have to be cool with everything,” Kent said, sounding defeated.

“What?” Jeff asked.

“I just mean, you don’t have to pretend that it doesn’t change things between us. Me being gay.”

“It doesn’t.”

Kent snorted.

“What do you want me to say here, Parser?” Jeff said. He was feeling decidedly prickly now. “That I never want you to look at me again because you might get your gay germs all over me?”

Kent’s flinch was visible and Jeff felt it like a slap across the face.

“I thought you knew me a little better than that,” Jeff said quietly. “You’re my best friend, Kent. Besides…”

Jeff hesitated, swallowing. Kent was looking back at him, petulant and defiant. Jeff couldn’t decide if he wanted to punch him or hug him until he stopped making that face.

“Besides?” Kent prompted.

Jeff killed his beer and leveraged himself out of the pool, grabbing one of the towels that they had brought out. He toweled himself dry and sighed heavily.

“Besides, it’s a little late for your gay germs anyways, ok?” Jeff said.

Kent’s expression darkened.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Jesus, Kent,” Jeff swore. “It means that you’re not the only guy on this team who might enjoy sucking a dick.”

He threw the towel back onto the chair and stormed inside, not waiting to see Kent’s reaction to that. He took a left and headed straight for the guest bedroom and sat down on the bed, not caring that he was getting the bedspread wet. He ran a hand over his face and swore again. If he’d been home, he might have tried punching a wall but as it was, he settled for mentally punching himself instead.

It was a long time before Kent appeared in the doorway. Kit padded in around Kent’s legs and zeroed in on Jeff immediately, jumping up on the bed beside him.

“Not now, Kit,” Kent snapped at the cat. Kit ignored him and forced her way onto Jeff’s lap. Jeff’s hands curled reluctantly into her long grey fur.

“It’s fine,” Jeff said. Kit purred a little louder, clearly ignoring Kent as she flipped over to show her belly to Jeff.

“You sleep with women,” Kent said.

Jeff’s fingers tightened in Kit’s fur and she nipped lightly at him until he let go and stroked her more lightly.

“People can be more than one thing,” he said.

He looked up to see Kent staring at him, his eyes dark and green and solemn.

“Yeah, I guess they can be,” Kent said finally.  

Jeff rubbed his eyes and let out a long breath.

“Can you just…sit or something?” he asked and gestured to the spot beside him on the bed. Kent nodded and pushed off from the door frame to come sit gingerly next to Jeff, a careful foot of space between them. Jeff bit down a snarky comment about who was being weird now and focused on petting Kit instead. They sat in discontented silence for a long time, each stewing in their own thoughts.

“Were you just never going to tell me?” Kent asked finally.

“Kent,” Jeff breathed a laugh. “I’d literally never told anyone until two weeks ago.”

Kent looked taken aback when Jeff snuck a glance at him.

“It’s…” Jeff sighed heavily. “I guess, I just thought…well, I do like women, so it didn’t matter, right?”

“Okay,” Kent said, frustratingly neutral. “So, why now?”

Jeff laughed, bitter and louder than he meant to.

“Probably about the same reason that you decided to drop it on me two months ago,” Jeff said honestly. “It’s just never really felt like an option before. And now, I don’t know, maybe it could be?”

Kent looked genuinely shocked now.

“Okay,” Kent said.

“Can you please stop saying ‘okay’?” Jeff said. Kit, as if in agreement, yowled and hopped out of Jeff’s lap to curl up on one of the bed’s pillows and groom herself. Kent watched her instead of answering Jeff immediately.

“Who did you tell?” Kent asked. “Two weeks ago?”

“Marchy,” Jeff said with a wince. “And ’tell’ is a strong word. He kind of just…guessed?”

“Marchy,” Kent repeated disbelievingly. “You told Marchy before me?”

Jeff reached over and punched him lightly on the arm.

“Yeah, I guess I did, asshole,” he said.

“Unbelievable,” Kent grumbled and punched him back.


	2. Part II

The rest of the summer passed uneventfully except for the more frequent Skype calls from Kent, who was obviously a little stir crazy in Albany, despite claiming that he wanted to be there more than New York City. Jeff went to Metcalfe’s house every other week for dinner with him and Irene, but Metcalfe never brought up Zimmermann or his own little brother again aside from the stray comment about him graduating from college soon and deciding what he wanted to do. Jeff was glad for it. He wasn’t sure what Metcalfe thought exactly, but he was happy to drop it. He hardly needed a guy on a rival team knowing something like that about him explicitly, even if they were friends now. 

Still, it felt like a blessing to hit the road for Vegas in late August. He wanted to see his team again like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch and training camp couldn’t come soon enough. 

Kent beat him back to Vegas, doing a whirlwind of press and promotional material for the team while also settling the rookies in with different teammates. Jeff hadn’t taken in a rookie since Marchy lived with him two years before even though he had the room. Honestly, he wasn’t in the market to adopt another one anytime soon. Marchy was still a pain in the ass even after he moved out halfway through his sophomore season. 

Jeff’s condo was basically exactly how he left it, although possibly a little cleaner. His cleaning service was always immaculate and Jeff wasn’t sure he’d be able to function without them. He’d never been very good at all the finer details of keeping his place clean. He texted Kent that he’d be back that afternoon, but was still surprised when Kent rang his doorbell several hours later with pizza in hand. Jeff buzzed him up without comment.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” Kent said as soon as Jeff opened the door.

“That your best line?” Jeff said.

“Hey, I brought dinner, I don’t need lines,” Kent said, shoving his way into the condo. “You miss your waterfall yet?”

“Yeah, I was thinking of asking for one in the locker room, what do you think?” Jeff said. He followed Kent into the den after grabbing two water bottles from the fridge and a couple of plates.

“Genius,” Kent said, already flicking through his channels as if Jeff hadn’t been watching something before he came over. 

“I was in the middle of a show, you know,” Jeff said, even though he knew it was futile. 

“ _ Flip or Flop _ isn’t a show, it’s garbage,” Kent said. Jeff snagged the pizza box on top with a grumble while Kent continued to flick through the channels. When the first pizza turned out to be mostly veggie, he pushed it aside and reached for the second box instead to find his customary supreme pizza. 

“You meet the rookies yet?” Jeff asked between mouthfuls.

“Mmm, set one of them up with Sunny and another with Scraps,” Kent said. He had finally settled on a Food Network show about cupcakes, which Jeff really didn’t think deserved that much more credit than his show, but arguing with Kent about it was a dead end.

“Thought Scraps wasn’t back until next weekend?”

“S’not,” Kent said. “I just had the key to his poolhouse.”

“He know you’re putting a rookie there?” Jeff laughed.

Kent shrugged and grinned slyly at Jeff.

“Why?” he asked. “You think he’ll mind?” 

Jeff looked over to Kent and laughed, ruffling his hair. 

“Gross, man,” Kent protested. “You’re getting grease in my hair.”

“Like you don’t put so much product in it that you’d even notice,” Jeff said. 

Kent patted his hair back in place with a pout. Jeff watched him, thinking he looked stupidly adorable as he did it and then almost choked on his pizza as he realized his own thoughts. He coughed and forced himself to look away. 

“What?” Kent asked.

“Nothing,” Jeff said. “Just thought I’d give you some privacy with your hair. Didn’t realize how committed you were to it since you always stuff it under one of those stupid hats.”

“Shut up,” Kent said, punching him. “You’re the one who takes like an hour to get ready before we go anywhere.” 

Jeff opened his mouth to argue that point but Kent cut him off.

“You know, now that I know you’re queer, I keep finding all these signs that I missed,” he said woefully. “Always the best groomed and smelling fresh should have been top of the list as far as suspicious activities go.”

Jeff bristled a bit, but then forced himself to roll his eyes. 

“Don’t let Sunny know you think I’m the best groomed,” he said. “You know how he gets about his beard.”

“Yeah,” Kent said and then, with a lazy hand, reached over to touch Jeff’s hair, curling a few locks in his fingers. Jeff raised an eyebrow at him, but allowed it. Kent fell silent, but continued playing with Jeff’s hair and Jeff eventually relaxed into the touch, watching Kent’s stupid show about cupcakes while Kent ran his fingers through his hair, scratching gently at his scalp. 

 

* * *

  
  
  
  


Their season opener was against the Kings and it was a physical game, everyone eager to throw their weight around after the long summer. Ponder landed a particularly nasty hit on Marchy and Jeff had to pull him off in a headlock afterwards, with Ponder practically spitting in his face. So much for off-season training buddies. Despite that, the Aces were clicking in a way that usually didn’t come until late November and Jeff had two points at the end of night, with a goal coming off a sweet pass from Kent at the end of the third. He felt good about the season in a way he hadn’t since they won the Cup four years earlier. 

Kent seemed to be riding the same high post-game and easily agreed when Jeff invited him to drinks with Metty. Jeff drove them to the nearby bar that was a regular haunt of the Aces. A few of the other Aces were already there and drifted in and out of their circle, shaking Metcalfe’s hand genially enough. It was still too early in the season for any true bad blood. 

“Jeff raved about your wife’s cooking all summer like he was having a religious experience,” Kent said as soon as they were all seated across from each other with beers in hand.

“He’s just jealous,” Jeff said with an eyebrow quirk at Metty. 

“He should be,” Metty laughed. “Irene is a beast in the kitchen. She used to be a personal chef, you know?”

“Oh really?” Jeff asked genuinely. “I don’t think I knew that.”

Metty shrugged. 

“She had to give up her client base when I got traded a few years ago and hasn’t seemed that interested in re-building in L.A. I think she’s still a little traumatized by how the trade went down,” he said. 

“Mid-game, right?” Kent asked with a small wince. Jeff looked to him in surprise, but Kent shrugged at him with a tiny quirk of a smile.

“Yeah,” Metty agreed, seeming to miss the interaction entirely. “No real warning, either. Just one of those things. We had to live apart for months while we untangled all of it and she ended up just leaving everything in Boston behind to come to L.A. with me.”

“That’s rough,” Jeff said. 

“To be honest, I don’t know that she really knew what she was signing up for when she married me, but God bless her for sticking it out anyways. I don’t really know what I would do without her.”

“Starve, probably,” Jeff said.

“Definitely.”

“So, tell me,” Kent said, as the night wound down around them and the other Aces had moved on. “Is this trainer you both share really as amazing as Jeff says?”

“Sven?” Metty said with a smile. “He’s brutal, but you can’t argue with results. You looking to join us?”

Kent barked a laugh, like he did when he thought something was genuinely funny. 

“Nah, I’m not much for California,” he said. 

“Parser wants me to train with him in New York,” Jeff said. “He gets lonely over the summer.”

Kent shoved him none too gently while Metty laughed.

“Troy’s a good training buddy,” Metty confirmed. “Dunno if I could survive a summer of training with just Ponder though.”

Kent snorted in obvious agreement, even though Jeff hadn’t exactly filled him in on Ponder’s less savory comments over the summer. No need to stir up bad feelings and all that.

“So, how do you feel about New York?” Kent asked Metty, like a dog after a bone.

“Oh my god, Parser,” Jeff groaned. “You’re not getting us up to New York next summer.”

“We’ll see,” he said. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


The season ground on, with the Aces taking more points than they lost and staying well above .500. They had only missed the playoffs twice in Jeff’s six years in the league, but this year felt different - lines clicking better than they had in ages and wins feeling like foregone conclusions. They were riding a five game win streak by the time they rolled into Providence in early November and Jeff almost forgot why he had been dreading it until the first question came up in a small scrum after practice that morning. 

“Does sharing the ice with someone like Jack Zimmermann distract you in any way?” a reporter Jeff had never seen before asked as he shoved his recorder in his face.

“Uh…I’m sorry?” Jeff asked, squinting at him.

“Jack Zimmermann - do you think he’s a distraction?” the reporter repeated. 

Jeff blinked at him, completely caught off guard, and when he looked around the room, it was almost vacant except for a few last stragglers crowded around Chazzer across the room. He felt a split-second of gratitude that Kent wasn’t there to hear the question because he probably would have said something stupid that they’d all regret.

“I don’t really understand the question,” Jeff said instead, although he definitely did. 

He slid his eyes away and onto the next reporter even as the first one tried to get at him in another way. The next reporter, a local Providence beat reporter who Jeff recognized from years on the road, threw an obvious softball at him about how well the Aces were doing already that season and Jeff gave a him a too long, overly enthusiastic answer. At his first opportunity after that, Jeff stood abruptly and nodded to the reporters before disappearing into the showers even though he’d already taken one. He stood in one of the stalls without turning the water on and waited several minutes before sighing heavily. His phone was buzzing in his pocket, probably half the team looking for him for lunch, but he left it there and walked out of the showers, grabbed his gear bag without looking up, and left for the hotel alone. 

 

* * *

  
  
  


His room service arrived about two minutes before Kent did with a take-out bag full of salmon steak and a spinach salad that Jeff hadn’t asked for but would far prefer over the lackluster room service steak he’d ordered. He took it with a grunt of thanks and Kent barged in without asking, making himself at home and immediately picking a floret of broccoli off of Jeff’s room service plate as Jeff unpacked the take-out. 

“Saw the clip on Sportsnet already,” Kent said without prompting. “Lauren’s gonna be mad at you.”

“Yeah, well,” Jeff said and shrugged when he couldn’t think of a good excuse. 

“Apparently he works for some local sports blog and has a personal vendetta against Zimms. He’s been trying to get players to give him quotes for a month or so now about how bad Zimms is for the game.”

Jeff curled his lip, but didn’t say anything and instead started shoving his salmon steak in his mouth. Kent fiddled with the remote before flicking on the TV and settling back in Jeff’s bed, kicking his shoes off and putting his hat on the bedside table. Jeff watched him ruffle his hair and then turned back to his food pointedly, suddenly fascinated by the salad in front of him.

“I’m seeing him tonight,” Kent said quietly after several minutes of nothing but the low sound of the TV and Jeff eating. 

“Oh,” Jeff said. He tried to school his face into neutrality, but wasn’t sure how successful he was. “I…uh, didn’t think you talked much.”

“We don’t,” Kent said and then with only a small hint of hesitation, added, “Sorry for not telling you sooner.”

Jeff started and looked up to see Kent staring at him, brow creased.

“Why would you need to tell me that?” Jeff said. “You don’t need my permission to see Zimmermann.”

“I know.” Kent’s frown deepened and he leaned over the side of the bed to make better eye contact with Jeff. “I just meant that you got me through all that shit this summer and I felt guilty for not telling you that I was having dinner with him tonight.”

“Well,” Jeff said. He speared his salad a little too hard and the spinach tore under his fork. “Do you feel better about it now?”

“Not really,” Kent said with a sigh and fell back on the bed with both hands over his face. Then, just as quickly, he jumped up and shoved his feet in his sneakers, stuffing his hat back on over his curls. “Listen, I’ll see you later. Time for some rest, anyways, yeah?”

Jeff barely had time to agree before Kent had flown out the door, leaving Jeff alone again. 

 

* * *

  
  
  


They only saw the Falconers a few times a year, but the games tended to get scrappy between their D-man Mashkov acting like an oversized guard dog if any of the Aces came near the net and his goalie and the Aces’ own D-men snarling back at him every time he shoved one of their men. The Falconers seemed to have their hackles especially raised this season, leading the league in penalty minutes and dropping a lot of easy games as a direct result of all of it. 

It was normal for Cup winners to fall off the next year - Jeff even had direct experience with the playing hangover from the extended post-season runs - but this slide was different. Jeff could see the extra layer of protection that Zimmermann drew from his teammates in the tape he’d watched and it was an easily pinpointed weakness during the game itself too. The Aces took full advantage of it, poking and prodding at Zimmermann to provoke Mashkov and Guy into dumb penalties and the Falconers fell in a 4-1 game without too much fuss. Jeff still thought that one blogger was an asshole, but he could at least concede that the guy’s point about Zimmermann being a distraction might have some kernel of truth. It was pretty clear the Falconers were in their own heads about needing to protect the guy and they needed to knock it off before it cost them the season and not just a few games. 

After the game, Jack Zimmermann himself was waiting for Kent outside the visitors’ locker room and Jeff felt an ugly twist of jealousy at the whole thing. The fact that Zimmermann looked just as pretty, if not more, in person than he did in his TV interviews did nothing to help his case and if Kent hadn’t been insistent that he and Zimmermann needed to talk alone together then Jeff might have forced his way into the plans. 

As it was, he nodded curtly at Zimmermann and made eye contact with Kent to see if he wanted back-up after all, but Kent shook his head, smiling a little at Jeff and then, they were gone before Jeff could think of anything else to say. 

Jeff went back to the hotel with the rest of the guys who hadn’t peeled off to go to a bar and went up to his room to stew in his own feelings with an inane cooking show on the hotel TV. He was half-asleep and dozing when there was a knock on his door a couple hours later. Rumpled and disoriented, he got up from his bed and straightened himself out a bit in the mirror before opening the door to see Kent there, looking somehow even more tired than him. He let him in wordlessly. 

Kent collapsed on the bed, his hat coming off with the force of the impact and sliding down to hide his face from Jeff.

“Went that well, huh?” Jeff asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed and then scooting back until his back hit the headboard. Kent grunted, not moving the hat.

“It was fine, actually,” Kent said finally. “Better than last time we talked, at least.”

“Hmm.” Jeff had gotten a painfully detailed account of the last time Zimmermann and Kent had talked and he couldn’t imagine a meeting going much worse than that, so it wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement that this time had gone better.

“He’s really gone on that kid,” Kent said, sounding pensive. He finally moved his hat away from his face and threw it off the bed before clasping both hands on his stomach. “I don’t think I’ve ever really seen him like that, to be honest.”

Jeff didn’t say anything else and Kent didn’t seem to expect him to. Instead, they just watched the show that Jeff had muted a long time ago until both of their eyes were drooping. Jeff didn’t realize Kent had actually fallen asleep until he heard the light snores coming from Kent. He nudged him awake.

“Parser,” he said. “You know you can’t stay here.”

Kent breathed in heavily through his nose as he blinked his eyes open. It took him a moment to understand Jeff’s meaning and he looked around the hotel room as if he’d forgotten how he’d gotten there. He grumbled a bit and then fell back onto the bed again, this time, kicking his shoes off and making himself more comfortable.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’ll go in a bit.”

Jeff rolled his eyes and grabbed the remote to turn the volume up just a little so he could at least hear the TV over Kent’s snoring which was bound to start up again. He found himself sinking into sleep not long after, the TV’s whispers lulling him there even faster. Much later, when he woke up the TV was off, the room was dark, and Kent had left, leaving only a cold spot on the bed next to Jeff. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


A few days later when they got back home from their East coast roadie, Jeff stumbled upon a blog with someone’s shitty phone camera picture of Kent and Zimmermann sitting across from each other at some restaurant in Providence and laughing at something. Kent’s mouth was pulled into a full, genuine grin as he gestured widely, obviously telling a story, probably about his dumb cat. Jeff looked at it for a little too long before angrily closing his computer and putting it away. It didn’t mean anything. Kent himself had said that Zimmermann was stupidly in love with the college kid he was dating. Besides, what did it matter to Jeff if Kent had dinner with his ex-boyfriend and made him laugh?

 

* * *

  
  
  


Kent looked a little like he was glowing in the dim light of the greasy bar the team crashed into after their 7-1 rout of the Coyotes. His hair was still bleached blonde by the endless summer of Las Vegas and his skin was gently bronzed, with freckles peeking out on his shoulders whenever Jeff caught a glimpse of them. Which Jeff was doing more often than not these days, fuck him. 

They squeezed into a booth side-by-side with several pitchers of beer for the table and Scraps pouring glasses sloppily, getting more on the table than in the glass if Jeff had to guess. Kent threw his arm around the back of the booth, his arm tucking against Jeff’s shoulders comfortably. Jeff did his best to ignore it as the night slipped on. They had three days’ worth of rest coming up and it was the first time they’d been out together in a while because of the grueling stretch of games that had propelled them into December. 

And it was only December, but the Aces were on fire - banking points like it was nothing at all and having a good time doing it. Jeff felt like he was playing the best hockey of his life, even if he would never say that out loud. Kent, always on his wing, was on pace for a career year, no small feat considering he’d won the Art Ross only two years before. Jeff had a million excuses for the high he was chasing that night, in retrospect.

“Want to come over for another drink?” Jeff asked Kent as they filtered out of the bar later that night. It was late and they were already well past drunk, but Kent shrugged and then waited for the Uber Jeff had already ordered. None of the other Aces seemed to think anything of it - Jeff and Kent were always disappearing together anyways, Jeff supposed. There was no reason to be paranoid about it now.

Kent was quiet in the car, almost sleepy, his eyes closed and head leaned back as the city rushed by and gave way to the empty desert suburbia of Henderson where Jeff lived. Jeff watched Kent quietly, taking in the curve of his eyelashes and the plump line of his lips, things he had noticed in passing before but never given himself permission to fully catalog. He wasn’t sure what page Kent was on for the rest of the night, wasn’t sure what page Kent was on most days, if he was being honest. 

The driver pulled up to Jeff’s house and the porch light flickered on automatically as Kent and Jeff climbed out of the car after Jeff quietly thanked the driver. Once inside, Kent headed straight for the living room, bypassing the kitchen, and Jeff followed him there and sat beside him, closer than usual. If Kent noticed, he didn’t move or acknowledge it. 

“Swoops,” Kent finally said and Jeff watched his Adam’s apple bob slowly as he swallowed. When he didn’t continue, Jeff reached out a slow hand to push a curl of blonde hair from Kent’s forehead, his thumb brushing Kent’s cheek as he did. Kent leaned into the touch with a small sigh and Jeff couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss him. 

Kent reacted immediately, his hand curling in Jeff’s shirt and pulling him closer as he slid back on the couch, Jeff followed him easily, kissing him hungrily as he pressed Kent down into the couch. Kent’s lips were as thick and soft as Jeff had imagined them to be, sliding against his as if they had been doing this for ages and were already well-acquainted with each other. 

Jeff had thought a lot about kissing Kent and how it might feel, how it would compare, but nothing had quite prepared him for the full-body sensation of actually doing it. Kent, for his part, tugged him in closer, just as hungry as Jeff was. Then, Jeff shifted his weight and his already painfully hard dick ground against Kent’s and his brain went almost completely offline. He was just recovering from the sparks of sensation that it had sent through him when Kent suddenly pushed him away and scrambled up from the couch as if he had been stung by something. Jeff sat back and swallowed dumbly as he looked up at where Kent was running both hands through his wild hair. 

“Fuck,” Kent said. He closed his eyes for a long moment before continuing, his voice soft and pained. “ _ Fuck _ . We’re not doing this, Jeff.”

Jeff blinked in confusion, his mouth moving but no sound coming out. His brain couldn’t quite catch up to why it was such a bad idea to be doing something that felt that good. Kent ran another hand through his hair, mussing it into a more normal state of disarray while Jeff watched him. When Kent looked back to him, his expression was closed off and far away.

“I have to go,” he said. “I have to not…be here.”

“Kent,” Jeff finally managed, his voice surprisingly croaky to his ears. 

“We’re not doing this,” Kent repeated himself. He shook his head as if disgusted with himself, or maybe disgusted with Jeff. “I can’t.”

Jeff felt like he had whiplash at the suddenness of Kent’s utter rejection. Numb, he watched Kent grab his keys and wallet from the table and leave as though a demon was chasing him. Once the door slammed behind Kent, Jeff sank back into the couch and pinched his nose so hard it stung as he willed himself not to cry.

“Fuck,” he said to the empty room. “Fuck!”

By the time he thought to go outside and tell Kent to at least come inside while he waited for his Uber home, there was no sign of him and it was like Kent had never been there at all. 

 

* * *

  
  
  


“Listen, Swoops,” Kent said two days later, practically cornering him in the weights room at the practice facility after Jeff trailed behind to get in a few extra reps at the rack. Jeff jumped a little at the sound of Kent’s voice, thinking he had been alone. He knew he was blushing but hoped the flush from his morning workout might be enough for at least some plausible deniability. 

He tried to head Kent off at the pass by talking first, ready with a long list of reasons to forget that the other night had ever happened. 

“Parser, we don’t need to talk about it, ok?” Jeff groaned as he re-racked his bar. “Please, just…can we chalk it up to a bad night and too much alcohol or something?”

“We weren’t drinking that much.” Kent frowned. “Besides —“

“Pretend we were,” Jeff said dryly. “It was dumb and I shouldn’t have.”

“That’s not…” Kent said. He seemed entirely off his footing and it was a rare thing to see him so uncertain. Jeff gave him a moment to re-formulate his obviously prepared speech while he removed weight plates from his bar and put them away. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Jeff snorted.

“Yeah, okay,” he said. “Sure, Parse.”

Jeff saw Kent roll his eyes, his nose wrinkling is obvious frustration at how this was playing out. Jeff sighed and put down the last of the weight plates before straightening up. 

“Parse,” he said seriously and then, with a cursory look around them to make sure they were still alone, he dropped his voice. “I should be apologizing to you and you know it. I shouldn’t have done it and I won’t ever pull something like that again. You’re my best friend and that matters way more to me, okay?”

Kent looked dumbstruck. His mouth curled downwards into a frown and he looked away from Jeff before nodding. 

“Thanks,” he said blandly, and then shaking himself a little, he added, “You’re my best friend too.”

“I’m basically your only friend after that bag skate,” Jeff said with a forced laugh. 

Kent’s grin was slow but genuine.

“I don’t know,” Kent said. “Scraps is a pretty loyal dude. S’never tried to pull any moves on me either.”

Jeff punched Kent in the arm and Kent recoiled in dramatic fashion, looking far more wounded than the hit warranted.

“What, now you’re beating me up too?” Kent asked. “You’re the worst best friend I’ve ever had.”

“You’re a dick,” Jeff said. 

“You love it,” Kent said with a smirk. Jeff rolled his eyes and led the way out of weight room. He hesitated before opening the door to the hallway and looked back to Kent who was following. 

“Seriously, though,” Jeff said. “We’re cool, right?”

“Yeah, Swoops,” Kent said, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “We’re cool. We always were, man, okay?”

 

* * *

  
  


In the way of truly bad things, Jeff never saw the hit coming. 

It came late and from behind, well after Jeff had already sent the puck flying to Kent from a scuffle at the boards. Carter from the Aeros had rammed into him at full speed, knocking him off his feet and sending him crashing feet first into the boards with an ugly crunch of a sound. His yell of pain was drowned out by the goal horn, but he couldn’t manage to look up from the ice, fighting both a wave of nausea and unbelievable lightning-hot pain from his foot. He focused on breathing in and out, the sounds and lights of the arena swirling dangerously around him as he watched the blue paint of the ice underneath him and the seconds stretched on. He was just coherent enough to start taking inventory of his body when someone finally knelt beside him, although no more than a few seconds could have passed since the hit.

“You need to get off the ice, bud?” Marchy yelled over the roar of the crowd as he suddenly loomed in Jeff’s vision. His face was shoved against Jeff’s ear so he could hear him and Jeff could vaguely feel Marchy’s gloved hand under his arm, pulling him upward. Jeff, unable to find his own voice, just nodded and tried to will himself to stand, but almost the second he pulled his right foot underneath him, his entire body burst into flames of pain and he yelled out again. 

“What is it?” Kent was yelling somewhere to his left as Marchy hovered over him. “What happened?”

Kent was suddenly at his left arm, leaning down even closer to Jeff than Marchy had and trying to get Jeff to make eye contact. Jeff thought he might throw up on the ice. Kent grimaced when Jeff didn’t answer verbally, just shook his head, trying to swallow down his own bile. He tried to stand again, with Kent grasping his other arm, but he grunted at the pain and fell back to his knees. Kent clapped him on the back, but didn’t try to help him up again.

“Okay, Swoops,” Kent said. “Trainer’s coming. We’re gonna get you off the ice, man. It’s okay.”

Kent kept up a steady stream of assurances until Ryan, one of the trainers, appeared with a small contingent. Jeff lost sight of Kent and Marchy both in the scuffle, suddenly surrounded by the Aces’ medical staff gently easing him onto a stretcher and taking him off the ice. Dimly, he heard Kent yelling something in the background, but then he was off the ice and being ferried down the hallway and into the relatively quiet tunnels beneath the stadium. Ryan was still beside him, frowning down at the stretcher as he walked with it. His hand grasped Jeff’s shoulder tightly when Jeff hissed in pain as the stretcher hit a bump. 

“What happened?” Ryan asked as soon as they came to halt. Jeff recognized the room as the medical staging area and groaned. He waved down in the general vicinity of his right ankle, still not really capable of saying much. He squeezed his eyes shut as another wave of pain hit him. Ryan didn’t seem to mind Jeff’s lack of description. He had probably seen the hit with his own eyes anyways from the bench so Jeff couldn’t have offered too much more detail. 

Ryan started to gently unlace Jeff’s left skate, leaving his right untouched for a moment before finally beginning to poke at it. Jeff cursed loudly, screwing his face up at the jolt of pain he felt every time his foot was so much as jostled as Ryan undid the laces and tried to ease the skate off. Stars swam in front of his eyes and he might black out for a minute. Ryan stopped trying after apparently concluding Jeff’s foot was too fucked to get the skate off in the normal way and patted Jeff’s other leg in apology. 

“We can cut it off if we need to,” Ryan said, calm and composed. Jeff breathed heavily through his nose and tried to concentrate on the cracks in the ceiling instead of his foot. 

“Looks like it caught a bad angle against the boards on that last hit,” One of the other trainers, Peters, said as he appeared from somewhere down the hallway with an iPad and a full bag of supplies that Jeff hoped was full of pain medication. Jeff grunted in agreement and Peters patted him on the shoulder before handing him several pills and promising him more at the hospital. Then, before Jeff could think too much about it, Peters was bracing him against the wall as Ryan quickly and efficiently cut the leather of the skate with a sharp blade until it slid off Jeff’s swollen foot. Ryan didn’t even try to roll the socks off, just cut them away too, and Jeff bit out a curse and knocked his head against the wall a few times before he was able to look down at the already purple and black mess that had been his foot and ankle only ten minutes prior. 

“Fuck,” he said dumbly as he looked down it. Ryan and Peters seemed less impressed. Ryan gently prodded at it in a few places, before frowning even more at Jeff’s heel in particular and Peters grunted in apparent agreement at the especially dark, almost black bloom of skin there. Jeff didn’t ask and threw his head back against the wall again with a groan as he tried to tamp down on the tears that burned his eyes. 

“Might be out for a while, Troy,” Peters said grimly. “We’ll get you out of here and into a consult, okay?”

“Fuck,” Jeff sighed, defeated. He didn’t even try to argue. He wasn’t stupid. He could see the writing on the wall here. 

“Okay, sit tight,” Peters said, taking that as confirmation and patting Jeff on his uninjured side. “Five minutes tops before we can get you on the road.”


	3. Part III

The Aces left on an almost three week long road trip without Jeff that same night and he was left in a private room in the hospital as an entire team of doctors discussed surgery options that sounded increasingly gruesome to Jeff. He did his best to listen to them when they described the surgery patiently for him the first time and then again the next day, when his sister and her husband arrived at the hospital after flying in all the way from Toronto, but his brain was fuzzy from the pain medication they kept shooting him up with and he could barely hold more than two thoughts in his head at the same time, much less understand tendon surgery beyond the need to just nod and sign any papers that Ryan or another Aces’ trainer said he should. He knew his sister Jenn was reading them before he signed them too and she’d always been much smarter than him anyways.

He went into surgery the same day that she arrived and just before puck drop of the Aces’ game against the Canucks. By the time he came to, the Aces had lost 3-1. It felt like a terrible omen for his recovery, but he didn’t say so out loud because he knew Jenn would hit him for it despite the fact that he had just come out of surgery. 

She drove him home to his condo the next day where she and Bryan had already made themselves at home in the guest room. Jeff didn’t mind. In fact, he was embarrassed at how grateful he was for them both to be there as he slept his way through the next week.

The doctors had been cagey about his timeline for recovery, but he could divine from the Aces’ trainers at least that he was probably looking at a few months out of the roster, doing nothing but physical therapy and watching the games from afar instead of playing himself. 

It was torture to watch the games on TV. Even more torture that the boys were doing pretty well without him. Pouliot was slotting in effortlessly on the first line as if he’d been playing there all year. Jeff knew it just meant that Kent was working a little harder to make the kid look good, but it still made him feel sick to his stomach. 

Jeff tried to stay off the Internet, but it was hard when he had almost nothing else to do with his day and half the articles out there about the Aces were about Jeff’s timeline for recovery which his own doctors weren’t even clear on, much less the press. Their speculation varied from the length of the current road-trip (ha) to a catastrophic career-ending injury (Jeff sincerely hoped not). It might very well be season-ending with the way his doctors kept grimacing at him though. His Achilles’ tendon had ruptured along with a few other more minor sprains in the collision with the boards and although the surgery had gone well, full mobility might take a long time to come back. Jeff was trying not to think about it, trying to focus on one day at a time. He had a full month of the boot on his foot before he was allowed to even think about training again.

 

* * *

  
  
  


Bryan flew back to Toronto the week after Jeff’s injury, but Jenn stayed even though Jeff did his best to convince her he could be independent without her. He clearly wasn’t very persuasive, because she seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his condo for the time being, turning in her articles for the paper she worked for remotely and clacking away at her computer constantly while she sat with him in the living room, mostly letting him watch whatever he wanted to. Jeff would be weirded out by how agreeable she was being if he wasn’t so grateful for the easy company. He knew he was moping and probably not very good company, but she seemed determined to see him through anyways. 

“You know this isn’t the end, right?” Jenn asked a few nights after Bryan had left as Jeff hung out in the kitchen with her, nursing a beer.

Jeff stayed quiet and worked on peeling the label off of the beer instead of answering her. She put one hand on her hip as she pushed bellpeppers and onions around in a skillet. He could feel her appraising gaze on him and he tried not to slump down on the bar stool under it. 

“Jeff,” she said, more gently this time. “I’m not saying you can’t be upset that it happened. Just…it’s not the end. You’ll be back out there soon.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, although he knew he still sounded sullen. 

“I’m sorry,” Jenn sighed. “If Mom were here, she’d know how to make this better.”

Jeff sighed too and put his beer down before making an effort to reach out and pull her into a awkward side hug from where he was perched precariously at the bar. She wiggled into the hug, but allowed it. 

“You’re doing just fine,” he assured her, dropping a kiss on her forehead before releasing her. “I’m just not in the mood to feel better right now.”

Jenn pursed her lips, but didn’t say anything more about it. Jeff resolved to get her a really big present, something shiny and way too expensive, before she left.  

  
  


* * *

  
  


Kent texted an unbelievable amount. Jeff already theoretically knew this, of course. Kent had been basically glued to his phone since the minute that Jeff had met him six years ago, but now that Jeff wasn’t with the team all the time, Kent seemed to have taken it upon himself to make sure Jeff didn’t miss anything, even the smallest joke. 

“Who the fuck texts you so much?” Jenn asked as Jeff pulled his phone out again and grinned down at it one afternoon in late January as she drove them to his physical therapy appointment. “How could  _ you _ possibly hide a girlfriend from me this long without cracking?”

Jeff pulled a face at her before pocketing the phone again. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

“It means you are one of the least subtle people I’ve ever met. And you obviously have a girlfriend, so spill.”

“Not a girlfriend,” Jeff said, coloring. 

Jenn shot him a doubtful glance before turning back to the road. She let him stew in uncomfortable silence for several minutes. He cleared his throat and tried to say something a few times but then gave up, watching the city fly past them. He barely noticed when she pulled into the parking lot of the hospital until she nudged him none too gently.

“Jeff,” she said. “You don’t have to go catatonic just because you want to get out of telling me about your personal life.”

“Sorry,” he said and threw her a small smile. He opened the door and slowly slid himself out of the car, gingerly putting weight on his injured foot, still safely ensconced in an awkwardly large boot that was hopefully getting traded out for something a little more manageable today. Jenn had already made her way around the car and was watching as he got onto his crutches with watchful suspicion. 

Jeff was half-worried that he would be leaving with the crutches and boot this afternoon no matter what the doctor said he was ready for just because Jenn wanted to be extra cautious. He grimaced at her playfully as he started the long trek up to the front lobby of the hospital. Jenn kept pace with him, clearly measuring her stride, and Jeff bit down on his suggestion that she go ahead because he knew she would ignore him anyways. Instead, he tried for an olive branch. 

“It really isn’t a girlfriend,” he said. 

Jenn shot him a look, but then shrugged.

“Okay,” she said in a tone that told Jeff exactly how much she believed him.

“It isn’t,” he insisted. “It’s just…some of the guys, you know, checking in. Making sure I don’t feel left out.”

He definitely wasn’t going to mention that it was actually just  _ one _ of the guys, in particular, but he wasn’t necessarily lying either. Scraps had texted him a few days ago to show him a picture of Marchy drooling on the plane, after all. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Kent called a few nights later after sending Jeff almost non-stop texts narrating their current roadie to Florida as if he was worried Jeff might genuinely miss Sunny’s string of unintelligible Swedish swearing during plane X-box tournaments. Jeff had been responding to the texts in spurts, but not reliably and he knew Kent would eventually get frustrated and just call, since that’s what he always did when Jeff didn’t text him back enough. Still, it took several rings when Kent finally did call him late one night after a game before Jeff could convince himself to answer. 

“Have they given you a real timeline yet?” Kent asked without preamble when Jeff finally picked up.

Jeff sighed and spared a look at his bedroom door to make sure it was firmly closed before he put the phone on speaker so he didn’t have to hold it awkwardly as he made himself comfortable on the bed. The brace of his ankle wasn’t nearly as bulky anymore and he was allowed to take it off at night, but it was still far from easy to move around in and Jeff still wasn’t allowed to put any sustained weight on it, forced to use crutches if he needed to go anywhere farther than his ensuite. 

“I would have told you if they had,” Jeff said. He tried not to be annoyed at the question. He knew how Kent was feeling; he had been on the other side of this enough times to know how crazy-making it was to have your linemate out indefinitely and be forced to play with replacements you weren’t familiar with. 

“I thought once you were done with the initial recovery…” Kent trailed off. Jeff bit back another sigh.

“I’m scheduled for a second consult early next month and after that they might be okay with me at least trying to get in skates again,” Jeff said, although he knew that Kent already knew that, probably had it entered into his personal calendar and everything. “It’s just rest and PT until then.” 

“Bryan and Jenn still with you?” Kent asked. 

“Just Jenn,” Jeff said. “Bryan needed to get back to Toronto.”

“Hmm,” Kent said and Jeff couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Kent’s obvious judgement. Kent had met Bryan exactly once and hated his guts in such an intense way that Jeff had once joked that it was almost like Jenn was Kent’s sister and not Jeff’s. 

“It was nice of him to even come down at all, Parser,” Jeff said. “This isn’t some short-term thing.” 

“Yeah, I just —“ Kent sighed. “Fuck, man. I just don’t think I’ve really processed it yet. I feel like I’ve barely even seen you since you had the surgery, asshole.”

“Take it up with whoever scheduled our games this year,” Jeff said. The Aces had been on the road for most of December and January, only playing a few home games sprinkled in and between practices, games, and Jeff’s own physical therapy schedule, it had been hard to see much more of each other than a passing meal or drink, which usually got crashed by their teammates. 

Kent snorted and they both fell quiet. 

“You’ll be back here soon,” Jeff said quietly. In two days actually, not that Jeff was counting. 

“Yeah,” Kent agreed. “Want me to get you tickets to the game on Saturday?”

Jeff laughed, in spite of everything.

“Asshole,” he said, shaking his head at his empty room. He could practically hear Kent’s smirk through the phone. They both knew that Jeff was expected in the press box at every home game until he was back on the ice and in the game. 

“They’ll be nice seats, Swoops,” Kent said. “I won’t put you in the nosebleeds.”

“I’m hanging up,” Jeff said, although he made no move to actually do so. Kent laughed on the other end, sounding happier than he had since Jeff had first told him the news. Jeff smiled to hear it. 

“Shit,” Kent said. “I have to go, but look, get yourself better, okay, man?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jeff said. “I’ll tell the doctors Kent Parson needs me back to center his line before he goes crazy.”

“I miss you, Swoops,” Kent said, suddenly serious again. “I gotta go, but like…I miss you.”

“Yeah, Parser,” Jeff said. “Me too.” 

 

* * *

  
  
  


[ 10:01 PM

TO: PARSER

FROM: JEFF ]

 

_ Stop looking like a kicked puppy _

 

Jeff saw Kent’s phone buzz across from him and Kent frowned down at it before throwing him a sour glance and putting it aside. Jeff kicked him with his good foot underneath the table and Kent’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t kick back but he rolled his eyes a bit at Jeff. No one else seemed to notice, the conversation swirling around them. Jeff smiled and turned back to his team who he felt like he hadn’t seen properly in forever between the holidays and roadies and Jeff being stuck at home with his stupid ankle brace.

When he looked over to Kent again a minute later, he still looked a lot like a kicked puppy, his face pulled into a grimace that hadn’t lifted since six of their teammates had crashed what was supposed to be a quiet dinner for just the two of them. The Aces had played a Sunday matinee earlier that day, but many had taken their early nights as a chance to see Jeff and he was embarrassed by how thankful he was to see all of them. 

Still, he could see Kent was less than thrilled. 

 

[ 10:03 PM 

TO: PARSER

FROM: JEFF ]

 

_ Want to leave? _

 

Kent looked down again and Jeff looked away, sipping his beer and pretending to be interested in whatever it was that Chazzer was saying. He saw his own phone light up out of the corner of his eye and waited a minute before picking it up. 

 

[ 10:04 PM : 

TO: JEFF

FROM: PARSER ]

 

_ With you. _

 

Jeff met Kent’s eyes across the table and felt a strange, stomach-flipping moment of confused attraction. He wasn’t sure if Kent meant anything by that other than the obvious, but he nodded minutely before turning back to the other conversation. He could see Kent watching him out of the corner of his eye, flipping his phone around his hands. Finally, Kent cleared his throat and leaned into the conversation. 

“Listen, boys, I promised Swoops I’d get him back to his sister for bedtime so it’s about to time to wrap this up,” Kent said, his voice barely audible above the loud, thumping music of the bar but the reaction from the Aces was immediate. 

“What?!” Marchy yelled from down the table. “What the fuck, Parse?”

Kent shrugged as if it were out of his hands and drained the rest of his beer in one long drink. Jeff stood slowly, not bothering with his beer as he negotiated with his crutches instead. 

“Parser’s right, I gotta get home,” Jeff said. “I’ll see you idiots soon.”

“Aw, damn, bro,” Marchy said and then shoved at everyone else until all of the Aces spilled out of the booth and began hugging Jeff one by one. It was another 30 minutes before they actually got out the door and even then, they had to carefully peel back one of the rookies who almost weaseled himself into a ride with Kent. Scraps had looked like he knew exactly what they were up to when he’d hugged Jeff goodbye, but hadn’t said anything beyond his normal gruff goodbye and Jeff had to remind himself that there was no way that Scraps knew anything beyond that maybe Kent and he wanted a few minutes to themselves to talk things out anyways. 

“Jesus, they’re a bunch of hanger-ons,” Kent grumbled as the bar door shut behind them. 

“Like you aren’t normally forcing them into stuff like this,” Jeff said, just barely managing not to roll his eyes at Kent. 

“I didn’t invite them tonight,” Kent grumbled. 

Jeff smiled and looked away as they walked to the valet stand. Kent had driven tonight for what seemed to be the sole purpose of ferrying Jeff to and from dinner despite Jeff’s assurances that even if he wasn’t yet cleared to drive himself, he could definitely order an Uber. The attendant looked like Christmas came early when he pulled the car up to the curb for Kent. Jeff could hardly blame him even though he would have appreciated something a little higher off the ground since climbing down into the low-slung roadster was hell with just one leg fully functional. 

They rode in relative silence together, interrupted only occasionally by Kent’s phone buzzing with notifications until he slid into the driveway at Jeff’s condo almost 30 minutes later. Neither of them got out of the car even as Kent killed the engine.

“Doing okay, Parser?” Jeff asked finally. 

Kent looked remarkably like a deer caught in headlights in that minute, cornered and afraid of whatever it was that was bearing down on him. Jeff wanted to reach out and touch him, but kept his hands to himself and looked away, watching Kent’s reflection in the window instead of the real Kent.

“I don’t know how to do any of this right,” Kent said quietly. “I’m going to fuck it up. I’ve already fucked it up.”

Jeff wasn’t sure exactly what Kent wanted him to say to that, so he kept silent and continued watching the mirror Kent in the window who was gripping the steering wheel and staring straight ahead, not looking at Jeff at all.

Finally, when it didn’t seem like Kent was going to be able to say anything further, he continued.

“I’m sorry about how I reacted,” Kent said and Jeff opened his mouth to argue, but Kent beat him to it. “It’s not how I wanted that to go. If I could do it again…fuck, I don’t know. I just want you to know that I am sorry, okay?”

“Kent,” Jeff said softly, turning to look at him, real and solid beside him. “Didn’t we already have this conversation?”

Kent’s jaw flexed and he shrugged jerkily.

“Not the way I wanted to,” Kent said.

“Okay,” Jeff agreed although normally he would have had a lot to say about that. Right now, he didn’t feel much like arguing the point though. “Anything else?”

“I want…” Kent said and then stopped, clearly frustrated. He slammed his hands against the steering wheel and got out of the car. Jeff took a moment before getting out himself, far less graceful as he maneuvered his body out of the low-slung car and onto his crutches. Kent was braced against the hood of his car with his arms flung wide and he was looking Jeff with that same wounded animal in a corner look again. Jeff stuffed his good hand in his pocket and waited, and when Kent seemed unable or unwilling to express himself, Jeff tried for an olive branch.

“Did you want to come in?” he asked. 

Kent flinched and Jeff tried very hard not to take it personally. Before he could backtrack, though, Kent recovered.

“Your sister won’t mind?” Kent asked.

“Nah,” Jeff said. “She’s already in bed and dead to the world anyways, guaranteed. She passes out at like nine every night.”

Kent snorted in laughter, but followed Jeff inside. Jeff almost steered them into the living room as usual, but then, remembering the last time he’d brought Kent there and how disastrously it had gone, thought better of it and headed for the kitchen instead. Jenn was nowhere to be found, just as Jeff had predicted. She really was a total lightweight when it came to bedtime these days. She couldn’t even stay up for games most of the time.

“I’m sorry the guys crashed dinner tonight,” Jeff said as he quietly handed Kent a bottle of water without asking. Kent cracked it open immediately.  “I didn’t really know how to say no to them when Marchy asked.”

“S’fine,” Kent said. “Sorry for being a jerk about it.”

Jeff smiled at him and then, embarrassed for some reason, down at the floor. He heard Kent set his water bottle down and shuffle closer and when he looked up, Kent was in front of him, studying him carefully. Jeff’s heart kicked into overdrive as he let Kent look his fill uninterrupted. When Kent’s hand came up cup Jeff’s neck, Jeff thought he might be having an actual cardiac episode by the way his heart was drumming. Kent’s fingers brushing against his pulse point surely felt it too, but Kent just stepped closer. Jeff licked his lips and watched him in total silence.

“Tell me not to,” Kent whispered, his lips brushing against Jeff’s as he said it, impossibly close but not quite there. Jeff reached up to gently brush a curl away from Kent’s eyes and let his hand linger there, not breaking eye contact with Kent the whole time. 

“Kent,” he murmured. Neither one of them moved. Kent’s eyes bored into Jeff’s, somehow asking both permission and begging for Jeff to push him away at the same time, but Jeff just stood, frozen, waiting for Kent to decide for himself what he wanted. Finally, Jeff asked quietly, “How did you want it to go?”

Kent softened in front of him and his eyes were almost grey in the dim light of Jeff’s kitchen. This time, when he kissed Jeff, his lips were careful and soft, fluttering and barely there. Jeff sighed into the kiss and Kent stepped closer, both of his hands coming up to cup Jeff’s neck now. His fingers slid into Jeff’s hair as his lips gently explored Jeff’s mouth. Jeff felt almost dizzy when Kent finally pulled away, licking his lips distractedly as he drank in the sight of Kent looking back at him with the same kind of soft, unfocused expression. 

“I still don’t know if this is a good idea,” Kent said, but before Jeff could say anything, Kent was kissing him again, this time pressing him against the counter until Jeff could feel every line of his body against his own. Jeff held off for as long as he could before he pulled back with a small wince. 

“Can we take this somewhere that isn’t my kitchen?” he murmured as Kent took the opportunity to kiss the hollow of his throat. Kent started and looked guiltily down at Jeff’s foot brace. Jeff rubbed his hand up and down Kent’s arm before nodding to the dark hallway that led to his bedroom. Kent hesitated and Jeff squeezed his arm. “Kent?”

Kent looked back to him and then, after a moment, held out his hand for Jeff. Jeff took it, threading their fingers together and letting Kent lead him down the hallway and into Jeff’s bedroom. Jeff sat on the edge of the bed with a grateful exhale and Kent sat next to him, suddenly awkward.

“We don’t have to do anything —” he started, but Jeff interrupted him with a kiss before he pulled back and scooted himself further up the bed. He maneuvered his brace carefully so as not to wrench his ankle and then as an afterthought, he pulled his shirt over his head and threw it aside. 

“Kent,” he said and reached a hand out to pull Kent on top of him. Kent didn’t resist, slowly swinging himself over until he was straddling Jeff and delicately hovering there, as if he was afraid Jeff might break if he moved too quickly. 

“Your sister?” Kent whispered, throwing a worried glance at the door as if Jeff had somehow forgotten to lock it. 

“Don’t mention my sister while you’re literally on top of me in bed,” Jeff groaned and then when that didn’t seem to satisfy Kent, he reached up and ran a hand through Kent’s hair. “Her room is on the opposite side of the condo, Parser,” he said. 

Jeff sat up a little further and kissed the corner of Kent’s mouth softly. Kent turned into the kiss and it turned slow and sweet, a quiet, satisfied noise from Kent sending a bolt of lightning attraction through Jeff as Kent gently settled on top of him. Jeff had been half-hard since Kent had first kissed him, but Kent’s body on top of his, pressing him solidly into the mattress was enough to get him the rest of the way. Jeff could feel the hard line of Kent’s dick too as Kent moved against him. 

Jeff had no idea if it was obvious to Kent how overwhelmed Jeff was by the feeling of Kent’s erection against his leg or exactly how clueless and full of false bravado he was about what to do next now that they had made it to bed. Kent, thankfully, seemed occupied with cataloging Jeff’s chest instead of noticing Jeff’s relative inexperience and was kissing his way across Jeff’s collarbone in between scorching kisses to Jeff’s mouth and Jeff thought he might just come in his pants if they continued at such a leisurely pace. 

His fingers played with the hem of Kent’s shirt and he paused, remembering the last time he had gotten to the point of undressing Kent. 

“Can I?” he asked quietly, afraid he would somehow break the magic of the moment. Kent’s eyes were unfocused and a little hazy when he looked up to Jeff and nodded before taking his own shirt off, not even waiting for Jeff to actually do it. Then, he leaned down and kissed Jeff again. Jeff groaned against his mouth as Kent’s bare chest made contact with his own, his hips twitching upwards to seek out the friction of Kent’s body. He slid his hands up Kent’s back and shoulders. Kent’s skin was smooth to the touch except for a few cuts and bruises from the season which Jeff did his best to avoid. 

Kent’s hands were everywhere at once and Jeff could barely keep track of them, so lost in how good it felt. He wished he could flip them over so he could properly explore Kent, but the threat of moving his injured foot too much kept him mostly anchored to the spot, following Kent’s lead. Kent seemed perfectly happy to just make out with Jeff, grinding against him, torturously slow.

“Kent,” he said between kisses. “ _ Please _ .”

He wasn’t even sure exactly what he was asking for, just  _ more _ , but Kent nodded and Jeff noticed for the first time how heavily they were both breathing. Kent swung off of him and Jeff started to complain before he realized that Kent was stripping the rest of his clothes off. Jeff hastily worked at his own belt buckle, pushing his pants down to his knees before he remembered the stupid brace on his ankle. 

“Shit,” he said as looked down at it, momentarily clueless as to what to do about it, every thought in his mind on the very naked and very aroused Kent Parson standing over the bed. Kent cracked his first smile almost all night and leaned over the brace with a tiny smirk. 

“Do you need me to take it off?” Kent asked and he was totally laughing at Jeff, but Jeff didn’t even care, he just nodded dumbly, still distracted by Kent’s nakedness.

Kent smiled again, this time softer and less teasing before he slowly started to undo the velcro straps of the brace and took it off with his slender, quick fingers. Then, with excruciating carefulness around Jeff’s ankle and foot, Kent slid Jeff’s pants the rest of the way off. He dropped a kiss on Jeff’s knee before looking back to the brace on the floor. 

“Should I put it back on?” he asked, frowning at it. 

Jeff shook his head slowly and then licked his lips, trying to find his voice.

“No,” he said, sounding parched and gravelly. “I don’t sleep with it. Just...be careful.”

He felt stupid even saying it, because Kent had been nothing but careful so far but Kent nodded seriously and stared back at him. He seemed to have suddenly become aware of Jeff’s nakedness as well and they both took several moments to unfreeze.

“C’mere,” Jeff said, summoning up all of his false bravado again. Kent climbed back on the bed and lay down next to Jeff this time, propped up on one elbow. Jeff reached out and ran a thumb over Kent’s cheekbone. Kent grabbed his hand and kissed the palm before releasing it and leaning forward to take Jeff’s mouth instead. They kissed just like that for several minutes, with Jeff smoothing his hands over every inch of Kent’s bare skin he could reach. Kent pulled back eventually, looking rumpled and flushed, and then in one smooth movement, he was stradding Jeff again, except this time, it was skin on skin and Jeff had to inhale sharply at the sudden contact. 

Kent leaned down to kiss him again and Jeff yanked a pillow into place behind his head so he could get a better angle. Kent made a guttural sound of approval as their dicks brushed against each other for the first time and Jeff’s hand on Kent’s hip tightened as Kent reached down and stroked Jeff’s erection a few times, his hand dry but so electric that Jeff almost didn’t care because he was so overcome with the sensation. 

“Okay?” Kent asked, sounding breathless himself. 

“Yeah,” Jeff said and re-focused on Kent’s face. Kent’s eyes were a little glassy but he was watching Jeff with rapt attention as his hand continued to gently stroke Jeff, teasing and light. Jeff could hear his own heavy breath - he felt like his heart was in his throat. He couldn’t quite believe this was actually happening but he had a hold of Kent’s hips and Kent was kissing him, hot and solid and real. Their hips were moving slowly together, the friction just on the side of too much, but Jeff hardly cared and would continue to do anything Kent wanted without complaint.

“Lube?” Kent asked after another minute of stroking Jeff between them. His hand ghosted on Jeff’s hip and Jeff shivered at the light fingertips on his skin. 

“Top drawer,” Jeff answered and Kent twisted across the bed to grab it, giving Jeff a clear view of his bare ass. Which. Jeff had definitely seen before in the locker room, but had never really had the opportunity to genuinely admire. Before he could do too much admiring though, Kent’s hand was cool and wet on his dick and Jeff nearly jumped out of his skin at how good it felt.

“Jesus,” he swore. 

“Shh,” Kent said soothingly, pulling his hand back and slicking up his own dick as Jeff watched. Jeff ran a hand down Kent’s spine, licking his lips as he watched, before grabbing Kent’s ass and squeezing. Kent let out a startled laugh and looked up. Kent stole a short kiss before settling suddenly on top of Jeff and grinding their hips together, hot and wet and unlike anything Jeff had ever felt before.

“Fuck, Kent,” Jeff groaned and he pulled Kent down with both hands now, desperate for the contact. Kent laughed again, this time breathier and he settled both hands on Jeff’s chest as he set a slow pace, his hips hypnotic as he rubbed off against Jeff. After a moment of getting settled, Kent leaned down and kissed Jeff. Jeff could barely handle the full-body sensation of Kent touching almost every inch of him at once, their dicks sliding against each other in delicious warmth. Kent was breathing heavily in his ear too, making soft, gasping sounds that Jeff wanted to hear more of, louder. 

“I’m not gonna last long,” Jeff breathed out, barely able to form words at all. Kent buried his face in Jeff’s neck and kissed him there. 

“S’okay,” he said directly in Jeff’s ear as he picked up the pace. “Do it.”

“Kent,” Jeff whined as the sensation built and Kent continued to thrust against him even faster, the lube wearing off and the friction dragging almost painfully against Jeff’s skin until he came with a strangled gasp, his come striping his stomach and chin even as Kent continued rubbing off against his stomach. Jeff urged him on, grabbing Kent’s ass and kissing him hard until Kent followed a minute later, panting into his mouth. Kent collapsed against him and Jeff buried his face in Kent’s hair, unable to hear anything except his own heart hammering in his ears. 

Just as he was getting too heavy draped across Jeff’s chest, Kent rolled off of him and stood up, heading straight to the bathroom. Jeff watched him go silently, feeling sticky and gross with sweat and come. Kent returned a minute later with a warm cloth and gently cleaned Jeff off, kissing his chin after he’d wiped it clean. Jeff tugged him down after he had finished and kissed him thoroughly. Kent collapsed on the bed next to him with a smile. Jeff reeled him in with an arm around Kent’s waist and kissed Kent’s shoulder blade. 

“Parser,” he said sleepily. “Don’t freak out about this, okay?” 

Kent grabbed Jeff’s hand that had settled on his hip and threaded their fingers together before squeezing.

“Go to sleep, Jeff,” he said. 

“S’weird when you call me that,” Jeff said, but his eyes were already closing. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Jeff woke up when Kent slid out of bed the next morning and groaned at the light seeping in through the open blinds. He’d forgotten to close them before going to sleep last night and his room was stupidly bright as a result. 

“Morning,” Kent said, his voice rough from sleep and his hair a riot. Jeff had seen early morning Kent hundreds of times before, but somehow it seemed more intimate this morning. Probably because he was still naked and in Jeff’s bedroom. 

“Hey,” Jeff said, blinking sleep from his eyes. 

“Go back to sleep,” Kent said. “I just have to get to practice.”

“Mmm, practice, what’s that like?” Jeff asked. Kent snorted, but his smile was a little rueful as he looked back to Jeff.

“It okay if I use your shower?” he asked.

“Course,” Jeff said. “Whatever you need.”

Jeff drifted off to the sound of the shower in his ensuite and only woke when Kent gently shook by the shoulder some time later after he was fully dressed in one of Jeff’s old Aces shirts and his same jeans from the night before. Jeff blinked up at him and smiled. 

“Hi,” he said. 

“Hey,” Kent said. His returning smile was a little sad around the edges and Jeff reached out to touch his thumb to Kent’s lips.

“Are you freaking out?” he asked. He already knew the answer, but it seemed polite to ask. 

“Yeah,” Kent said. Jeff smiled a little wider at the admission and breathed a small laugh.

“Gonna be okay for practice?” Jeff asked. Kent took his hand and kissed it, then after a moment of hesitation, he leaned down and kissed Jeff’s cheek too. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll text you after, okay?”

“I’ll be here,” Jeff said with a sigh. 

“Yeah,” Kent said. He seemed frozen to the spot, looking down at Jeff, with Jeff’s hand still in his. Jeff saw him swallow and look away. Definitely freaking out. 

“Parser,” he said finally. “You’re gonna be late if you stay here much longer.” Jeff had no idea if that was actually true or not because he wasn’t sure what time it even was, but it seemed to kick Kent into gear. He squeezed Jeff’s hand once before letting go and smoothing his hair down. 

“Yeah, okay,” Kent said. “I gotta go.”

He turned towards the door and then looked back, shy in a way Jeff had never seen him before. 

“Get better soon, Swoops, okay?” Kent said. 

Jeff smiled and turned over in bed so he could see Kent more fully.

“Sounds good, Parser,” he said, softer than he meant to. Kent smiled and then turned around again with a small, awkward wave, leaving Jeff alone. Jeff fell back into the pillows and smiled up at the ceiling with a small, disbelieving laugh.

Jeff took his time getting ready that morning. He took a particularly long shower, getting off again at the thought of Kent last night braced above him, and spent a long time putting himself back together in front of the mirror. He knew it was stupid, but he expected himself to look different somehow, yet his face was the same as always. He had had sex with his best friend last night and he was somehow exactly the same. He wondered if Kent had done the same thing when he had showered that morning. He wondered what Kent was thinking right then. 

When he finally made his way out to the kitchen, Jenn was already there presiding over a skillet full of eggs. She raised a single eyebrow at him when he looked over her shoulder and stole a piece of bacon from the plate she’d set out. She swatted at him, but it was obvious she’d made enough for both of them.

“You know, you guys are way too old for sleepovers,” she said without any pretext. Jeff didn’t quite choke on his bacon, but it was a close call. He turned away to the coffee maker so she couldn’t see his face and poured himself a very slow cup of coffee as he got his story straight in his head.

“He usually crashes in the guest room and we both kinda forgot you were here,” Jeff said as casually as he could. “Wasn’t gonna make him sleep on the couch.”

“He lives like twenty minutes away,” Jenn said, unimpressed. Jeff shrugged at her and Jeff could practically hear her eye roll as she turned back to her skillet. “Whatever. You guys are weird as fuck.”

He let out a small exhale of relief at how easily she had accepted that story, which meant she hadn’t heard anything last night after all. She slid a whole mess of scrambled eggs and vegetables onto two plates and claimed the last remaining slices of bacon for herself before scooting off towards the living room. 

“Thanks, sis,” Jeff called after her because he knew it would annoy her and probably get her to drop the subject entirely. 

She made the predictable sound of disgust at the nickname and he smiled at her back, feeling like he’d just gotten away with breaking curfew or something comparably juvenile for some reason. 


	4. Part IV

Kent was definitely freaking out. Jeff could tell by the carefully crafted bro language of the two texts he had received in rapid succession late that evening asking him if he would be at the game tomorrow, as if Jeff wasn’t basically required to sit in the press box for as long as he was on IR and to wave every time the jumbotron needed a filler during a commercial break. 

Jeff was big enough to admit that he was maybe freaking out a little bit too. Had felt that first finger of doubt sometime late that morning when Kent hadn’t texted yet and continued to feel doubt as the day wore on without any word.

After the initial high of sex had worn off, Jeff had been faced with nothing but time to think about all the ways this whole thing could blow up in their faces. And, wow, there were a lot of reasons that his lust-addled brain had not thought of before he had basically lured Kent to bed. He kept thinking of what Kent had said right before they had made it to his bedroom last night,  _ “ _ _ I still don’t know if this is a good idea _ _.” _

Jeff was so fucked. 

  
  


[ 8:26 PM

TO: JEFF

FROM: PARSER ]

 

_ hey _

 

[ 8:28 PM

TO: JEFF

FROM: PARSER ]

 

_ you’re coming to the game tomorrow right _

  
  


Jeff wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with those texts. He stared at them for a long time before turning his phone over so he couldn’t see the screen anymore and focusing on the movie that Jenn had picked out. He’d missed the first half of it, lost in his own head about what had happened the night before and he had no idea what was happening in the weird thriller, but it didn’t matter. Jenn drooped on the opposite end of the couch, already flagging for the night. He let her sleep through the rest of the movie before gently nudging her awake.

“Sis,” he said. “Time for bed, eh?”

“Mmm, I’m awake.”

“Sure you are,” Jeff said, poking her again. 

Jenn blinked up at him blearily and then sat up more purposefully, stretching her arms and legs. He grabbed the blanket she had knocked off the couch and folded it before putting it over the arm of the couch. When he looked up, Jenn was studying him closely. 

“Your doctor was really optimistic about getting you back on the ice soon, Jeff,” she said softly and Jeff frowned at her, not understanding why she was bringing that up until she continued. “You’ve been moping around all day like he gave you bad news. I know you’re not getting back on the ice like, tomorrow, but it’ll be soon enough.”

Jeff was honestly so distracted by Kent’s non-texting that day to have paid the doctor much attention when they’d gone in for his physical therapy appointment. He had just done what was asked of him and gotten out of there in a daze, counting the seconds until he could check his phone again. He ducked his head a little guiltily and frowned down at the floor before sitting next to her. He felt shitty lying to his sister about this, but it’s not like he could tell her the truth. 

“Um,” he said instead, stalling. “Yeah.”

“Okay, buddy, don’t strain yourself there,” Jenn said, patting him on the arm. Jeff winced and gave her a small smile before tugging her into a one-armed hug.

“I’m glad you’re here, okay?” Jeff said. “I couldn’t have gotten this far without you.”

“Nope,” she agreed, but hugged him back readily. They stayed like that for several minutes, until she poked him in the side. “You can talk to me about it, though, you know. Or we can find someone for you to talk to, I don’t know.”

Jeff smiled and ruffled her hair.

“I promise I’m okay,” he said. “Just feeling a little off today.”

“Okay,” she said and Jeff could hear the gentle skepticism in her voice. He swallowed down any thought of confessing what was really bugging him and smiled at her before standing and offering her a hand up. 

“It’s way past your bedtime,” he teased.

Jenn scowled at him, but took the hand up. She yawned as soon as she was up, completely undermining herself and Jeff snorted in laughter.

“Hush,” she said. “I’m still jet lagged.”

“Dude, it’s been forever,” he said. “You are not.”

“Well,” she huffed. “See if I stay much longer with an attitude like that.”

He wrapped an arm around her again and hugged her. 

“You know it’ll be okay if you want to go home, right?” Jeff said. “I can get the front office to hire a car for me for all the appointments and shit. It’s been a long time. You don’t have to stay forever just because I don’t really have anyone else.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Jenn joked.

“No,” Jeff said hastily, eyes wide. “I just meant —“

“Relax, Jeff,” Jenn said, finally wriggling free of his hug. “I get what you’re saying.”

“I know,” Jeff said. “Maybe…I don’t know. Maybe soon I can join the guys on the road again or something. You know, not skating, but just like, hanging out with them and shit.”

Jenn took his face in both hands squished his cheeks like she used to do when they were kids. It was Jeff’s turn to scowl at her now.

“That’s pathetic,” she said honestly. 

Jeff shoved her away with a laugh and she swiped back before cackling her way down the hallway.

 

[ 11:01 PM

TO: PARSER

FROM: JEFF  ]

 

_ yeah, of course _

 

* * *

  
  


Jeff hated watching from the press box, even though the regular media guys all left him alone. He hated even being at the arena, in all honesty, with his ankle wrapped in a brace and his stride still slow and deliberate. He had shunned his crutches at the last minute, but by the end of the game, he was wishing he’d brought them. Most of the time, he didn’t really need them anymore, but it was a long game, fragmented by a slew of dumb penalties and then stretching all the way into a shootout and Jeff was tired and sore by the time it was over. 

He didn’t want to go to the locker room after and would have rather just ducked out, but Lauren snagged him with 10 minutes to go in the third and informed him that he would be expected for a brief media availability afterwards. Jeff had sighed heavily at her, but she had just smiled and went on her way, already knowing that Jeff would do it no matter what faces he pulled because defying her was a literal death sentence.

Until tonight, he had been relieved to get down into the room and realize his stall was exactly how he’d left next to Kent and Scraps even if he hadn’t been on the ice in over a month now, but seeing Kent before the game had knocked the wind out of him. Kent had been almost aggressively bro-ish, casual and non-committal when he had slapped Jeff on the back like they hadn’t been literally rubbing off on each other less than 24 hours before. Jeff had given him a questioning look and Kent had all but blanked him, his smile empty and anonymous, the one he used for fans, not Jeff. Jeff had been stewing about it for the three and a half hours it had taken for the Stars to finally take them down in overtime. He wasn’t sure what he had expected when he saw Kent again, but it definitely wasn’t the sick feeling at the bottom of his stomach that he’d been nursing for most of the night.

Jeff lingered outside the room instead of going inside and Lauren herded the reporters to him there instead of trying to corral him inside, which was fine with Jeff. He took his questions from mostly the visiting beat reporters, although one or two homers were in the small scrum just outside the doors of the locker room and most of them were the same questions that he couldn’t really answer except with a “Well, I’m working with my doctors and the Aces training staff and I hope to be back soon” kind of generic bullshit that Jeff hated giving because the reporters knew it was bullshit too, but he supposed they needed the quote anyways. They released him pretty shortly afterwards and he looked around for Lauren, but she must have disappeared into the room. He figured that was as good an escape hatch that he was going to get and started to head down the hallway, nodding to the staff he knew along the way, but keeping his head down and not talking much. He hated how slowly he was walking, every step far too deliberate, but he’d been on his feet without his crutches for too long that night and anything more energetic than his slow plod would probably rupture the damn tendon all over again. 

It was hardly even a surprise when he heard running footsteps behind him and Kent suddenly appeared next to him, only a little out of breath. 

“Jesus, Swoops,” Kent said. “I thought I’d missed you completely.”

Jeff shrugged. He would have liked to have just turned around and kept walking, but the building was crawling with eyes and ears. There was no way something like that wouldn’t get back to the locker room and bring some added scrutiny to the both of them, which they didn’t need.  

“Swoops, hey,” Kent said. He looked distinctly uncomfortable all of a sudden and glanced around them before jerking his shoulders in a weird, aborted shrug motion. “Can I give you a ride home?”

“I have a car waiting,” Jeff said, too quickly. It wasn’t even a lie. Management had swung for a driver to and from games for Jeff and a quiet man named Abed showed up in a sleek black BMW to ferry Jeff to the games now. Kent seemed undeterred.

“Well, let me give you ride anyways,” Kent said. “Give your ride the rest of the night off.”

Jeff sighed. 

“Parser,” he said. “I’m tired and I need to probably ice my ankle for two hours before I can even get to sleep, so it’s really not a good night.”

“Jeff,” Kent said and Jeff frowned at the use of his first name. Kent stepped a little closer and lowered his voice. “Please let me drive you home.”

“It’s…” Jeff trailed off and rubbed his face. “Parser, maybe it’s just not a good idea.”

Kent rocked backwards and frowned. Jeff bit down hard on his own lip.

“Let me drive you home.”

Jeff stared at Kent and Kent stared back, giving him the most ridiculous set of puppy eyes Jeff had ever seen. They definitely would not have worked under normal circumstances. Unfortunately, they had left normal behind the second Jeff had kissed him for the first time. 

“Yeah,” Jeff said, letting his shoulders drop from their defensive hunch. “Okay. Let me just make a call.”

Kent nodded eagerly and sucked in his lips as Jeff pulled his phone out and leaned up against the wall. He waited patiently while Jeff called Abed and explained that he was covered for the rest of the night. When Jeff hung up, Kent raised both eyebrows and nodded his head towards the tunnel that would take them to the parking garage. Jeff followed wordlessly.

As soon as Jeff closed his car door, Kent started speaking.

“Listen, I’m sorry about that bullshit I pulled before the game. I didn’t — that wasn’t how I meant for that to go,” Kent said in a rush. “I just panicked? I don’t know. I just…I fucked up. Sorry.”

Jeff stared at Kent, who was looking back at him with earnest, icy blue eyes that were actually much more convincing than the fake puppy dog shit he’d pulled a few minutes ago. Jeff sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Parser…” he said. 

Kent had twisted in the driver’s seat so he was looking directly at Jeff. Jeff didn’t think it was fair that he got to look so good - the flush from the game was still on his pale skin and Jeff wanted nothing more than to follow it down beneath Kent’s loose collar. Instead he trained his eyes back on the dashboard.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have this conversation in the arena parking lot,” Jeff said finally. He saw Kent startle out of the corner of his eye, as if he’d forgotten where they were or something. 

“I—” Kent started and then stopped with a frustrated inhale. “Yeah. I can take you home.”

“Kent,” Jeff said softly. “It doesn’t have be home.”

Kent was still looking at him, gaze steady and pleading, when Jeff looked back over to him. Jeff allowed a small smile before briefly curling his finger against where Kent’s hand rested on the the gear shift. Kent immediately grasped his hand in return before letting go and nodding. He had the car started and was peeling out of the garage before Jeff could second guess it. 

There was still something surreal about emerging onto the Strip after games - the lights from the casinos so bright that the street lights seemed redundant even this late into the night and everything around them a little too big and loud to be normal. Jeff thought he would have gotten used to it after so many years, but it still unsettled him sometimes when he had been in the arena for hours to emerge into the sparkling world of Las Vegas.

Kent didn’t merge onto the highway to go to Jeff’s house out in the suburbs, but Jeff recognized the turns that would take them to Kent’s condo on the edge of downtown. As soon as they were clear of the snarl of traffic around the arena, Kent reached out and tentatively ran his fingers along Jeff’s wrist until Jeff flipped his hand over and let Kent slide their palms together, fingers laced. Kent never took his eyes off the road, but Jeff caught the small smile at the corner of his mouth, even in the dark. 

 

* * *

  
  
  


Jeff could get used to waking up next to Kent in bed and the thought only scared him a little. They had shared a bed more than once in the years they had known each other, usually when they were smashed and too tired to bother with a couch or guest bed, but that was a normal side-effect of how close you got to some of the guys on your team after living in each others’ pockets year after year. Or maybe that was just what Jeff was telling himself. In any case waking up to Kent next to him felt as natural as anything, even if they were both naked and the room smelled of lingering sex. 

Jeff watched Kent sleep for a minute, before reaching out and pulling him closer. Kent didn’t wake up but his naked skin slid against Jeff’s easily, tacky with sweat from the too-hot room. Jeff tucked his face into the crease of Kent’s shoulder and kissed his neck as he pulled himself as close as he could against Kent, every inch of their bodies touching. 

“S’hot,” Kent murmured, but didn’t open his eyes. 

“Yeah,” Jeff agreed. He didn’t move. Kent didn’t either.

Kent huffed a small sigh and dragged Jeff’s arm, which had been resting on Kent’s hip, up to his chest, holding Jeff’s hand there. Jeff kissed the side of his neck again and they both drifted in and out of sleep for the next hour. Kent had the next two days off and Jeff had nowhere to be until physical therapy later that afternoon, so he saw no reason to not just laze around. At some point, Kent rolled around so they were face to face and began kissing his way along Jeff’s jaw, still sleepy and slow. Jeff was still mostly asleep, but his dick definitely wasn’t, twitching in interest against Kent’s thick thigh. Jeff let a small whimper of arousal escape him when Kent pressed closer and Kent let out an exhale of laughter. 

“Last night not enough for you?” Kent asked. 

Jeff reached over to run a hand through Kent’s hair, smiling at him. The sunlight leaking in from around Kent’s curtains threw a soft light around the room and made Kent’s normally sharp features look soft and smudged. His eyes were a molten, dark color that Jeff had never seen before, but loved instantly. Kent was looking back at him with a strangely calculating expression. 

“You’re beautiful,” Jeff said without thinking. 

Kent’s expression immediately shifted to one of surprise, but then Kent ducked his head and Jeff could see the startled blush on Kent’s face. Jeff shifted in bed so he could gently press Kent down into the mattress, taking care with his injured foot as he moved to straddle Kent, who had gone pliant and quiet beneath him. Jeff pressed kisses into Kent’s collarbone, working his way to Kent’s mouth.

“So beautiful,” Jeff said again as he reached Kent’s mouth. Kent’s hand came up to wrap around Jeff’s neck. His hand was rough with callouses as it slid along Jeff’s skin and it sent a shiver of sensation throughout Jeff. 

Last night, they hadn’t done much talking. Kent had pretty much jumped Jeff the moment they got inside and they barely made it to the couch before Kent was blowing Jeff. And, okay, Jeff had been on the receiving end of many blowjobs in his life, but he was pretty sure he never wanted one from anyone else but Kent Parson after last night because it had been so amazing. Kent hadn’t even waited for Jeff to recover from the blowjob before jerking himself off on Jeff’s chest and then kissing him until they were both almost too tired to continue. Jeff couldn’t even remember when they’d made it to bed, although he was pretty sure they’d gotten each other off again once they’d made it there. 

Now, Jeff kissed his way slowly down Kent’s stomach, lingering along the hard lines of muscle and making a point of licking at his skin when Kent skirted away from it the first time with a breathy laugh. Jeff braced his arms around Kent to hold him down as he slowly made his way down Kent’s body until finally he reached Kent’s already hard dick, leaking with pre-come. Jeff took it in his hand and watched the skin disappear under his fist for a few strokes before he pressed a soft kiss to the head and then, feeling a little braver, he licked the tip of Kent’s dick. 

Kent inhaled sharply.

“I’ve never actually...” Jeff said. He took a deep breath and looked up to where Kent was watching him with some mix of obvious lust and amusement. Jeff looked away with a short laugh and blushed. He let his other hand rest on the inside of Kent’s thigh and rubbed his thumb against the skin there. Kent’s skin jumped a little under even the gentle touch and Jeff didn’t miss the way Kent’s cock jumped in his loose grip too. He licked his lips and swallowed. 

“Do you want to?” Kent asked, his voice huskier than normal. Jeff nodded hurriedly. There was pretty much nothing he wanted more at this point, although he didn’t say that aloud. Kent ran a considering hand through Jeff’s hair and then smirked as he lightly chucked Jeff’s chin. “I’ll coach you through it, kid.”

Jeff laughed, his head falling forward against Kent’s thigh, and he just barely stopped himself from slugging Kent on the arm for that. Kent tugged lightly at his hair again and then settled back onto his pillows, obviously pleased with himself. When Jeff had admired him long enough, Kent gestured imperiously down to his erection. Jeff pinched his thigh in retaliation which sent Kent scrambling up the bed with a soft swear.

“I’m older than you,” Jeff said belatedly, even as he pulled Kent back down and smoothed his hands over the soft, curly hair on Kent’s muscled thighs. Kent’s mouth turned into a smirk again and he opened it to say something before Jeff leveraged himself up and crushed their mouths together to shut him up. “I guarantee whatever you’re about to say, you shouldn’t,” he said quietly, between kisses.

Kent laughed and kissed him back. 

“You’re no fun, Swoops,” Kent whined. 

“I’m literally about to suck your dick,” Jeff said, sitting back on his thighs and then wincing at the twinge of pain that went through his foot. Kent caught the grimace and frowned. 

“If you’re hurting…” Kent said, twisting around to look at Jeff’s ankle. 

“No, it’s fine,” Jeff said and then without waiting for Kent to go full-on nursemaid, he slid down further on the bed and took Kent’s dick back in his mouth. Kent inhaled in surprise as Jeff ran his tongue on the smooth skin of the underside of his dick and Jeff felt Kent’s hand land softly in his hair. He looked up and pulled off after a few more experimental licks. 

“I thought you were gonna coach me through it,” Jeff said. His hand pumped slowly at Kent’s erection and Kent was breathing shallowly, his eyes hooded, but he was smiling that cocky grin of his that he usually got when he was showing off in practice.

“Uhm…you’re doing great,” Kent said, the words coming unevenly as Jeff leaned back down, this time taking as much of Kent inside his mouth as he could. “Obviously a natural.”

Jeff laughed, humming as he bobbed slowly, dragging his tongue up Kent’s dick. Kent’s hand was back in Jeff’s hair, gently applying pressure and establishing some rhythm to Jeff’s more experimental bobbing. Jeff went along with the guidance easily, falling into a slow, steady pace of sucking and swallowing around Kent’s cock. Kent murmured small encouragements to him with one hand curled into Jeff’s hair and the other braced on Jeff’s shoulder.

“Watch your teeth, asshole,” Kent said, flicking at his ear when Jeff nicked the head of Kent’s cock with his teeth as he pulled off to give his mouth a break. 

“Sorry,” Jeff said as he took Kent in hand and stroked him. He kissed along the strong line of Kent’s hips and Kent’s hands smoothed over his shoulders. Jeff nipped at Kent’s skin and Kent swatted him away, but was smiling when Jeff looked back up to him. “How am I doing?”

Kent cleared his throat and looked a little hazy as Jeff’s hand sped up on his dick. 

“Mmm, so good,” Kent said. “Clearly did your homework.”

“Yeah?” Jeff said as he settled back between Kent’s legs. “Watched a lot of tape.”

Kent’s laugh rippled through his body and his hand tightened on Jeff’s neck as he pushed Jeff back towards his dick. 

“I bet you did,” Kent said lowly as Jeff took him back in his mouth. “You think about me while you watched it?”

Jeff had pretty much exclusively thought about Kent when he watched porn for the past four months actually. Not that he was going to give Kent the satisfaction of knowing that. Instead he re-doubled his efforts at sucking him off and Kent seemed to forget himself entirely as he thrust his hips up into Jeff’s mouth with a groan. 

“Jeff,” Kent whispered after another few minutes. “M’coming.”

Jeff pulled off with his mouth but kept jerking Kent off at a ruthless speed. Kent came with a long groan and a full-body spasm of pleasure that was enough to send waves through Jeff as well. They were both breathing hard as Kent threw an arm over his face and Jeff smiled to see him so undone. He knew his technique wasn’t exactly polished and it had probably been a sloppy blowjob, but the proof that it had been effective was all over Kent’s toned stomach anyways. Jeff ran finger through the come, pushing it along Kent’s abs, before Kent hauled him up and kissed him hard. 

“How’d I do, coach?” Jeff asked teasingly when Kent finally released him. Jeff rolled to the side, wincing as his foot moved awkwardly and his own painfully hard erection made itself known again as it brushed against the sheets. He reached down to palm at his own dick, some of Kent’s come still on his fingers, sticky on his skin. 

“Pretty good,” Kent said. His voice was low and unusually raspy as he reached down to the floor to grab a t-shirt to wipe himself off. “Lots of promise there. I’m sure with a bit of practice, you’ll be a pro in no time.”

Jeff hummed in agreement, idly stroking at his own dick and wondering how much it would even take to get himself off at this point. After another minute of heavy breathing beside him, Kent shifted towards him and knocked Jeff’s hand away, taking up a leisurely pace of stroking Jeff’s dick. Jeff sighed in contentment as Kent’s hand took over, sinking into the bed and letting his eyes close as he leaned into the pleasure. Kent pressed closer and kissed the corner of Jeff’s mouth.

“Want another demonstration?” Kent asked, directly in his ear. Jeff opened his heavy eyes and nodded, pretty sure that even if he tried to say yes, he wouldn’t have been able to. Kent seemed to get his drift anyways. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


When Jeff had first met Kent at training camp, he had hated him on sight. Kent had two years in the league under his belt and was a bonafide superstar with the Calder to his name. A second rounder like Jeff who had been fighting his way up through the AHL was destined not to like him much. Or at least not to like him much until McReynolds nudged Jeff up to center Kent’s line when Chazzer had taken an unfortunate puck to the face three months into the season and then…well, it’s hard not to start liking a guy who averages almost a point per game and is generous with spreading the points around too. But still, it wasn’t like they were friends from the first eyelock. Kent had been a moody fucking bastard his first few years in the league and honestly, behind closed doors, sometimes he still was, but he had grown on Jeff like some kind of creeping ivy that eventually became so entwined with Jeff’s foundation that it would have been impossible to extract him without also damaging Jeff. 

That’s what made this whole thing a bad idea, Jeff supposed, but it was also why it felt so inexplicably natural too. 

Kent didn’t stop texting an unnatural amount and Jeff did his best to respond to the texts, but he also figured that at least some of the time Kent wasn’t really even looking for a response, he just wanted to share. It made Jeff’s heart flop around in his chest every time he saw the notification and he would be half-distracted until he could read it even if he didn’t know how to respond. It would be a lie to say Jeff knew where he stood with Kent. The only thing he really knew was that whatever they were doing, he wanted more of it and couldn’t imagine ever wanting to stop. The labels seemed unimportant so long as Kent felt the same and as far as Jeff could tell, he did. 

When Kent wasn’t around, Jeff threw himself into physical therapy, determined to get back on the ice sooner than his doctors predicted and his progress started slowly ticking forward as another month passed them by with a long Aces homestand that meant Jeff saw more of Kent than he had since he’d been first injured. 

“Are you really that bored of me?” Jenn asked one afternoon when Jeff told her had scheduled a meeting with Ryan to talk about at least traveling with the guys again. She was digging into her froyo with her usual gusto, so Jeff was pretty sure she wasn’t that cut up about it.

“I saw you looking up tickets for home yesterday,” he reminded her. She rolled her eyes, but waved her spoon at him in concession.

“You seem to have reached self-sufficiency,” Jenn said with a shrug. “I figured it was time to get out of your hair.”

“I don’t mind having you in my hair,” Jeff said, reaching around the table to ruffle hers.

She swatted him away and wrinkled her nose.

“Gross,” Jenn said. 

“Did you buy the ticket?” Jeff asked.

“Not yet,” she hedged.

“Do it,” Jeff said. “I’ll be fine. I can walk without crutches and everything these days.”

Jenn sighed and gave him a long look. 

“Can you please get a girlfriend so I can worry about you less?” she asked. “I hate thinking about you alone down here.”

Jeff just barely suppressed his wince as he hastily stood and went into the kitchen.

“I’m fine on my own,” Jeff said, trying very hard to not think about Kent. “I like it that way.”

Jenn followed him into the kitchen, pitching the cardboard bowl her froyo had been in and rinsing her hands quickly. She frowned at Jeff who had opened the dishwasher to put away the clean dishes. 

“I don’t mean to push you about it, Jeff,” she said finally. “I just want you to be happy.”

Jeff straightened up and sighed. He reeled her in for a quick hug. 

“I am happy,” he said. “Promise.”

This time he was definitely thinking about Kent and there was nothing to do about it except turn his face back to the dishes that wouldn’t mind his no doubt goofy smile. Jenn made a considering sound and he heard her shuffle off back towards the living room.

“Buy the ticket!” he called after her.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Jenn left the next week. Jeff still wasn’t cleared for driving, but he rode in the hired car the team had put at his disposal to get her to the airport and hug her goodbye and then he headed straight to the practice arena where the Aces were still in the midst of their morning skate. He waved hello to a few of the guys lingering in the hallway, lingering to chat with Sunny for a few minutes before slowly lumbering his way out to the bench. He could feel several heads in the small crowd gathered to watch the Aces practice craning towards him and knew he’d be in some pictures and tweets later that day, but he tried not to react. 

He sat himself on the bench as McReynolds skated over with a quirked eyebrow.

“You know you’re not getting into skates today, Troy,” he said and coming from anyone else, it might have been a question, but from McReynolds it was a statement of fact. 

Jeff nodded in understanding.

“Yes, sir,” he said. “Just dropping in to watch if that’s okay. I’m meeting with Ryan and Peters tomorrow about skating.”

“Alright,” McReynolds said, although there was no way he didn’t already know that Jeff was possibly getting cleared for at least solo skating soon. “Good to see you around, Troy. The boys’ll be glad when you’re back with us. That first line misses you.”

Jeff nodded again. That was pretty much as close to compliments as McReynolds got and Jeff wasn’t normally on the receiving end of them, to be honest. McReynolds seemed done with him and pushed off with a tap to the boards to go talk with one of the assistant coaches across the ice. It wasn’t long before the guys started to drift over to the bench to tap Jeff on the head and say hello for a few minutes. Jeff had been trying to not be stranger in the locker room while he’d been gone, but it was hard when he wasn’t skating and playing with them. 

“Bro, I thought you died,” Marchy said, looking especially martyred as he took a moment to lean against the boards. “You know, I texted you twice last week to get dinner. If I wasn’t so secure in our friendship, I might think you were trying to get rid of me.”

Jeff winced. 

“Sorry, man,” he said. He had definitely meant to respond to those texts but had been occupied by another teammate’s mouth at the time. 

Marchy sighed theatrically. 

“Want me to get you a smoothie later to make up for it?” Jeff offered. He had been planning on just leaving with Kent whenever Kent wrapped up for the day, but he could also take a hint that he was neglecting his other teammates. Besides, it wasn’t like he didn’t see enough of Kent. They had been snatching every moment they could together lately. 

Marchy lit up and grinned at Jeff.

“Really?” he asked, like the overgrown child he was. “You got time?”

“Marchy, I have nothing but time,” Jeff said dryly which dampened Marchy’s expression immediately. Jeff shoved him playfully and Marchy took a swipe back at him with a startled laugh. “Hey, is it okay if Parse comes?”

Marchy shrugged, as if it had been a foregone conclusion anyways. Jeff supposed it was. He and Kent had always been close and it must be common knowledge in the room that Kent was at least in regular contact with Jeff while he stayed home. Marchy’s expression went quiet for a moment before he looked around them and leaned closer.

“You tell Parser?” Marchy asked. 

“About smoothies?” Jeff asked, confused.

“No,” Marchy said. “I meant…about…uh, what we talked about this summer?”

It took Jeff a moment to understand his drift and then he could feel the blush on his face. He cleared his throat and looked towards the ice and by some strange coincidence, right into Kent’s eyes, who was staring at him from across the ice. Kent raised both eyebrows at Jeff’s no doubt strange expression but Jeff just gave a tiny shrug before turning back to Marchy.

“Yeah, sure,” Jeff said as casually as he could. “He knows.”

“And it’s cool, right?” Marchy asked. 

Jeff couldn’t help the disbelieving laugh that escaped his lips.

“What? You gonna fight Parser?”

Marchy huffed a little.

“I just meant —“

Jeff reached across the boards and clapped him on the shoulder reassuringly.

“I know, man,” he said. “Appreciate it. I promise Parser is cool with it.”

“Good,” Marchy said, nodding. “But like, if you need me to —“

“Jesus, Marchy,” Jeff swore. “Get back to practice, you goon. I’ll catch you after.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


“We’re getting smoothies with Marchy,” Jeff announced as soon as Kent was out of the locker room. Jeff had been leaning against the wall, catching up on some texts he had been putting off replying to after Marchy had planted the seed of shame in him earlier. He accepted hugs and chatter from most of the guys as they filtered out of the room. Kent just came over and leaned against the wall next to him.

“Is that what that was all about earlier?” Kent said and if Jeff didn’t know any better, he could have sworn there was a note of jealousy there. He gave Kent an unimpressed look. Kent scowled back. 

“He wanted to make sure you were cool with me being…uh, you know,” Jeff said with a shrug.

Kent looked taken aback.

“He thought I wouldn’t be?” Kent asked, frowning. “What did you tell him?”

“That you had a gay panic at a swimming pool,” Jeff said dryly. When Kent’s scowl deepened, Jeff punched his arm. “Will you relax? I told him you were cool, end of story. And then I told him we were getting smoothies.”

Kent exhaled loudly and crossed his arms as he stared at the locker room with what was only marginally less glowering than the look he had on his face before. Jeff had no idea what that was about - Kent normally liked Marchy even though Marchy was basically like having a hyperactive little brother around at all times. Jeff didn’t have too long to dwell on it because Marchy appeared a moment later, with his bag over his shoulder. He lit up when he saw Jeff and Kent waiting for him, as if he hadn’t believed Jeff when he’d promised he would be.

Jeff held out a fist for a quick bump and couldn’t help the smile that found its way onto his face.

“About time, Marchy,” he said. “Parser and I were going grey waiting on you.”

“Shut up, Swoops,” Marchy said, grinning. “You know that when you’re showering, you’re always the last one out because you have to make sure every hair is perfectly combed.”

Jeff held up his hands in concession. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Jeff didn’t tell Kent about the meeting with Ryan and Peters about his status update and he wasn’t entirely sure why. Mostly he didn’t want to get Kent’s hopes up about him returning, just in case Ryan and Peters thought he wasn’t ready to start skating again because he knew Kent would probably try to talk them into it on his behalf and Jeff didn’t want that. He was pretty sure he would be getting cleared to skate that day anyways, so there was no need for Kent to lean on the trainers and possibly piss them off. 

Jeff tagged along to morning skate with Kent and nobody so much as raised an eyebrow when they came in together. Jeff headed straight for the cardio room, because at least that he was allowed to do now without special permission while most of the other guys headed out to skate. A few of the older guys drifted in and out of the room and stopped to talk with Jeff for a few minutes each before getting back to their own routines. It was comforting and familiar to be back at the practice facility this time around. Jeff was so close to feeling the ice beneath his feet for the first time in months and he felt like he could taste it as he got some of his excess energy out on the reclining bike. 

When Ryan finally found him, Jeff was so engrossed in the replay of the last night’s game on one of the TVs in the room that Ryan had to grasp his shoulder to get his attention. Jeff jumped a little and stopped his cycling. 

“Ready to get at it, Troy?” Ryan asked gruffly.

“Yeah, absolutely,” Jeff said and scrambled up from the bike. 

Jeff followed him out of the room after grabbing a towel to wipe his forehead with and Ryan led him down the tunnel to the trainers’ room. They spent the next half an hour running through drills and flexing Jeff’s foot until Ryan and Peters were both nodding in appreciation at Jeff’s progress. Jeff was pleased too, even if it meant he was definitely going to have to sit with an ice pack on his foot for hours later that night to make up for it. 

“You wanna put some skates on and take a few laps, Troy?” Peters asked as they wrapped up. 

Jeff looked up so fast he almost got whiplash.

“Seriously? Right now?” he asked.

Ryan laughed and slapped him on the back.

“If you’re up to it,” Peters said. Peters was doing a poor job of hiding his amused grin at Jeff’s obvious joy and Ryan was straight up laughing. Jeff couldn’t have cared less though. They were going to let him skate. 

“Troy, I’m sure Matthews can set you up with some skates since you probably don’t have your gear today,” Ryan said. Jeff nodded eagerly and bolted from the room before they could change their minds to track down the equipment manager. Bringing his own gear had felt like bad luck, or worse, a cocky over-calculation that wouldn’t buy him any leverage with the trainers. It was never great to skate in team equipment, but Matthews had skates ready to go for him that were pretty close to what Jeff normally skated in. He had clearly been tipped off to what was happening because he had gloves and a special, slim-fitting brace for Jeff’s foot ready as well. 

Jeff was on the ice ten minutes later in a bright yellow no contact jersey and a huge grin as he pushed himself around the small, private rink adjacent to the regular practice arena. He had the tiny rink all to himself as the trainers watched from the bench. Peters was taking notes on his ever-present iPad, but Ryan was just leaning over the boards, watching Jeff intently. His first few strides had felt heavy and not nearly as powerful as they should have been, but he found at least some of his footing after a few minutes. It was almost like the first skate after a long summer of training, except he wasn’t nearly as strong as he was used to and every push cost more than it should have. It would come back though. 

Peters had been strict about no fancy footwork and Jeff was keen to please the guy, so he took slow, purposeful laps around the ice exactly as instructed. He didn’t even notice when Kent appeared at the boards with McReynolds and one of the assistant coaches, Mitchell, beside Ryan and Peters. Ryan and Peters were in a serious discussion with McReynolds and Mitchell, but Kent was leaned over the boards on both forearms, watching Jeff skate with an unreadable expression. 

Jeff took another two laps before pulling up to a stop at the bench and bumping his shoulder against Kent’s as he came to a stop. Kent didn’t return the gesture like he normally would have and when he turned to look at Jeff, his face was pulled into a frown. Jeff’s heart sank a little at that, but he refused to feel bad for skating. 

“Didn’t tell me you were skating today,” Kent said evenly.

“Didn’t know,” Jeff said honestly. He furrowed his brow at Kent, but Kent didn’t say anything else and his expression stayed frustratingly neutral.

Before Jeff could explain further, Peters separated himself from the others and came over to the boards to debrief. Kent stepped back with a nod and walked a little bit away, down the hallway. Jeff tried not to follow him with his eyes and instead gave his attention to Peters. 

“How’d it feel, Troy?” Peters asked.

“Good,” Jeff said, completely ignoring the steady twinge of pressure his foot was giving him now that he’d stopped moving. 

Peters gave a him skeptical look like he knew Jeff was at least partially lying, but didn’t say anything. Instead, after another few questions, he walked back over to Ryan and McReynolds with a pat on Jeff’s arm. McReynolds nodded at whatever Peters said and gave Jeff an appraising look.

“You good to travel with us tonight, Troy?” McReynolds asked.

Jeff couldn’t help glancing at where Kent had retreated to at the question, but Kent was clearly either out of earshot or ignoring them as he texted on his phone. Jeff’s stomach twisted again, but he forced himself to smile as widely as he could as he nodded the affirmative. He had expected there to be another few weeks before they let him travel again, so this was good news even if Kent was pissed off for whatever reason. McReynolds seemed to read his mind - or at least some of it.

“Don’t get too excited,” he said. “You’re not seeing play any time soon, but I don’t see any reason why you can’t start skating with the boys again.”

“Yes, sir,” Troy said hurriedly. “I understand. I’ll be ready to fly tonight.”

McReynolds nodded, satisfied. He left a minute later with Ryan and Peters following him out and leaving Jeff and Kent alone together in the tunnel. Jeff exhaled in relief as soon as they had disappeared down the tunnel and got off the ice to walk to where Kent was still leaning against the wall. 

Kent flicked a glance up at him, frowning, as Jeff lumbered towards him. 

“You need to get off your ankle before you fuck it up,” Kent said suddenly, standing up from where he had been leaning and pocketing his phone. 

He was right, but Jeff frowned at the tone anyways. 

“What’s with you?” Jeff asked. He didn’t wait for Kent to answer as he started to make his way down the tunnel. Kent followed him, already in his street clothes and sneakers. 

“You didn’t tell me you were doing this today,” Kent said, sounding more put out than Jeff really thought he had the right to be. Jeff shot him a glance and sure enough, Kent’s expression was almost surly now that the trainers and coaches had left them alone together.

“Parser, these aren’t even my skates,” Jeff said as patiently as he could. “I meant it when I said I didn’t know I’d be on the ice today.”

“You knew you were meeting with the trainers though,” Kent said.

Jeff sighed as they reached the locker room. It had cleared out while Jeff had been skating and they were alone.

“Are we seriously arguing about this?” Jeff asked. 

Kent crossed him arms as he watched Jeff unlace his skates. Jeff couldn’t hide the slight wince he made when he took the skate off of his right foot. He could almost feel Kent’s disapproval wafting off of him.

“You shouldn’t rush this,” Kent said, gesturing to Jeff’s foot. “What if —“

“Kent,” Jeff interrupted flatly. “I’m not arguing about this with you.”

“Why not?” Kent asked. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself because —“

“It’s none of your fucking business,” Jeff said with a snarl. It was categorically untrue - Kent was, forgetting everything else, his captain and best friend - but it clearly struck a nerve because Kent took a step back, looking as though Jeff had punched him. “I—“ Jeff started and shook his head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, it’s cool,” Kent said, his voice presser-neutral and face blank. Jeff felt his stomach twist uncomfortably as he grasped for words. “I’ll just leave you to it then. See you on the plane, bro.”

Jeff sighed as Kent retreated from the locker room. He threw the tape sitting out on the bench next to him furiously at the ground where it bounced and rolled off under someone else’s stall, then he buried his face in his hands and sat there in the quiet until he heard someone open the door and come in. 

“Alright, there, Troy?” Matthews, the equipment manager’s deep bass voice broke through his thoughts. Jeff looked up to see the huge man hovering over him with a concerned look. 

“Yeah,” Jeff said. “Everything’s fine.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Jeff received a hero’s welcome when he boarded the team plane that night after the game. The boys were already in good spirits after walloping the Islanders and they were happy to spread the cheer as Jeff made his way onto the plane, thumping him on the back and ruffling his hair as he passed. Marchy even booted Lias from the seat next to him so Jeff could reclaim his old spot, much to the sulky rookie’s dismay. Jeff looked for Kent but he was already hunkered next to the window, blocked in by Scrappy’s huge frame, with his headphones on, blatantly ignoring Jeff. Jeff hadn’t talked to him since their fight that morning and it looked like if Kent had his way, they wouldn’t be talking anytime soon either. He rolled his eyes and sat down. If Marchy noticed his bad mood, he didn’t say so, and was probably too high on his goal that night to even notice. Jeff plugged his own headphones in and settled in for the flight to Seattle. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Kent didn’t talk directly to Jeff for the next few days. Jeff was used to Kent’s bullshit handling of fights that he didn’t win and he had been on the receiving end of the radio silence before, but this time felt especially bitter. It was Jeff’s first time back in the thick of the things with the team and Kent was basically absent. Jeff continued to skate in limited bursts that were heavily supervised by Peters and wasn’t yet allowed to skate with the team, but he hardly cared if it meant he could have ice time again. His ankle and foot were killing him after skating three days in row, but he had plenty of time on his own to ice it and Matthews had slipped him a few extra heating pads as well without any questions. He was making it work.

It was only a matter of time before someone noticed though.

“What you and Parser fight about?” Scraps grunted at him one afternoon when they found themselves sitting together at lunch. 

Jeff looked up from his steak with surprise.

“He mopes all day,” Scraps said with obvious annoyance. 

“He’s being an ass,” Jeff said, stabbing his food a little too viciously.

Scraps snorted like that was no surprise and really, it wasn’t. More times than not, Kent was an ass. Jeff sighed and stabbed fruitlessly at his food, not even tasting it as he shovelled it into his mouth. He could feel Scraps studying him but he didn’t acknowledge it.

“He mopes more than usual this time,” Scraps said finally. Jeff flicked a glance up to Scraps and frowned at him. Scraps shrugged and returned to his meal, dropping it when Marchy suddenly appeared and pulled out a chair, Lias in tow. 

The two younger men steered the conversation towards their game that night and Jeff tried to contribute to the conversation. He’d been watching an unreal amount of game tape, trying to at least be useful in his game analysis when he couldn’t be on the ice. The younger guys listened intently to him and Scraps sometimes grunted in agreement and at least didn’t mention Kent again for the rest of the meal. 

Jeff watched them play from the press box, as always. The Kings were a mess from the first puck drop with messy passes and the Aces weren’t super tight, but were composed enough to gobble up the pucks they were being gifted by the opposition. He didn’t go down to the room during either intermission, but chatted idly with some of the local staff, signing a few things and shaking hands. 

The game was basically over halfway through the third when Kent banked a shot off of one of the Kings’ defensemen that took a lucky bounce into the net to make it 3-0. The Kings all but folded after that and the Aces stepped on their throat several minutes later by scoring an empty netter. Jeff started his descent down to the locker room as soon as the puck coasted into the empty net.

 

* * *

  
  
  


Less than an hour later, Jeff found himself seated across from Metcalfe in a divey bar not far from the arena. It was pretty clear that not a single person in the bar recognized them or gave a single fuck about them at all. Their waitress was there only long enough to drop off two bottles of beer before disappearing and leaving them alone in the far corner of the bar.

“Gonna tell me what’s got you so quiet?” Metty asked after letting Jeff nurse his beer grumpily. Jeff looked up and then back down at the table. He peeled the label off his beer slowly as Metty waited him out. 

“I’ve been seeing someone,” Jeff said and then frowned at the phrase. “Maybe not seeing, I don’t know.”

Metty was grinning at him, barely containing a laugh when Jeff looked up, which only made Jeff scowl. 

“Kid, I feel like you either are or you aren’t,” Metty said. 

“Yeah,” Jeff said. “I guess.”

“Does this someone think they’re seeing you?” Metty asked. He took a sip of his beer as he looked steadily at Jeff. Jeff froze for a second. He’d never actually come out to Metty - back during the summer, he’d still been wrestling with what he was himself and then later, it hadn’t seemed that important. Now, though…he supposed there was no real harm in confirming something that Metty clearly already knew. Had known before Jeff had known himself somehow. 

“I’m not really…I guess we’ve never talked much about it?” Jeff said. “Anyways, I think it might be over.”

Metty frowned. 

“Sorry to hear that, kid,” Metty said. “Did you fight or did it just kind of sizzle out?”

Jeff shifted in his seat and threw a cautious glance around them at the mostly deserted bar that Metty had hustled him into. He licked his lips and chewed on his words for a minute before he took a deep breath and spoke again. 

“He didn’t like that I got my recovery timetable pushed up a little,” Jeff said carefully. He couldn’t look at Metty when he said it and instead stared down at the wood grain of the table. “Wanted me to take some more time and took it really personally when I met with the trainers without saying anything to him.”

Metty didn’t say anything for a long moment, but Jeff still couldn’t look up. He was imaging a million awful reactions playing across Metty’s face right then and he couldn’t handle any of them. 

“Why didn’t you tell him you wanted to push it up?” Metty asked.

Jeff swallowed and ran a hand across his face with a heavy sigh.

“I don’t know,” Jeff admitted. “I guess because I knew he’d be against it.”

Metty sighed now.

“Kid,” he said. “I know what it’s like to want to get back out there after getting sidelined for so long, but if you’re hurting yourself to do it, it’s only going to suck in the long-term.”

“I know that,” Jeff said defensively. “I’m not even skating with the team yet. I just…I couldn’t sit home and watch them play on TV anymore. I needed to be out here with them.”

Metty was nodding, but his face was still serious.

“You serious about this someone?” Metty asked.

“I don’t know,” Jeff said. To his great embarrassment, his voice croaked a little when he said it. Metty smiled sympathetically and raised his beer to his lips as he considered Jeff. 

“Apologize to him,” Metty said after he’d swallowed.

“What?” Jeff asked. 

“You heard me,” Metty said. “You fucked up. Apologize.”

“I —“ Jeff said, but Metty interrupted him.

“Troy, trust me on this one,” Metty said. “I’m an old married man with many years of experience of fucking things to hell.”

Jeff sat back into the booth and glowered at his empty beer bottle. Metty seemed to take the hint and waved at their waitress who was across the room, standing near the bar. She appeared a few minutes later with fresh bottles for both of them and Metty thanked her with a smile even as Jeff sank lower in his seat.

“You’re used to doing things on your own,” Metty said after letting Jeff suck down several gulps of the cold beer. “You’re gonna fuck this up a few times before you get a feel for it.”

Jeff nursed his beer sulkily for another twenty minutes before Metty prodded him up and out of the bar. He drove Jeff to the hotel and got out of the car when they’d pulled up to the front doors to hug Jeff tightly. 

“Let me know how it goes, okay?” Metty said, patting Jeff on the back.

“Yeah, ok,” Jeff grumbled, still feeling sulky about it. Metty knocked Jeff’s hat askew when he cuffed him playfully on the ear which forced a smile out of Jeff. “Good to see you, Metty. Thanks for letting me talk about it.”

“Anytime,” Metty said. “I’m really glad you felt like you could talk about it with me, Troy.”

Jeff shrugged. He didn’t want to tell Metty that he was pretty much the only person Jeff  _ could _ talk to about it without raising some seriously nosy questions, so he didn’t. He figured Metty might already know that anyways. Instead, he pulled Metty into another hug before stepping away and going inside to the cold air of the hotel lobby. It was quiet and the desk attendant barely looked up as he came in and then, clearly recognizing him as one of the hockey players, slid her eyes away, completely disinterested in him. Jeff got on the elevator and pressed the button for his floor. When the doors opened though, he didn’t get out. 

The doors slid closed again and he stood there, considering his own reflection. Finally, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and texted Scraps to see if he knew Kent’s room number. Scraps texted back immediately, but it took Jeff another few moments before he could translate the text into action on his part. Kent was two floors up from him and the elevator ride felt too short, but this time when the doors opened, Jeff got out. 

Kent’s door was right around the corner from the hallway, not even giving Jeff enough time to mentally prepare himself to knock before it was right in front of his face. He knocked anyways, not giving himself the time to talk himself out of it either.

Kent answered a few long moments later, clearly surprised to see Jeff there. 

“Hey,” Jeff said dumbly, taking Kent’s shirtless torso and low-slung sweatpants in with as much grace as he could muster. Kent’s marked frown at him went a long way towards balancing the situation though.

“It’s late,” Kent said even though he still had the TV playing quietly behind him as clear testament to the fact he hadn’t been sleeping. 

“I know,” Jeff said anyways. “I just wanted to say something really quick and then I’ll let you sleep, okay?”

Kent didn’t open his door any further and Jeff pressed his lips together. He had had just enough to drink at the bar that he was feeling a little fuzzy around the edges and his words felt clumsier than usual. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about getting back on the ice,” Jeff said and when Kent opened his mouth to say something that was no doubt snarky, Jeff held up a hand to silence him. “I really didn’t know that they would just throw me out there that day. I thought they were just making the determination if I could travel with you guys again.”

“You still should have told me,” Kent said. His arms were crossed against his chest and he showed no signs of letting Jeff inside. 

“I know,” Jeff said. “I’m sorry. Next time I will.”

Kent’s face contorted for a second and then softened. 

“Yeah?” he asked, suddenly much quieter.

“Yes,” Jeff said sincerely. “I was being stupid.”

Kent nodded in agreement, his eyebrows quirking up and down. Jeff wanted to kiss him so badly, but instead he rapped his hand twice against the doorframe and nodded. 

“I’ll see you in morning, Kent,” Jeff said softly and turned to leave. He had barely turned when Kent grabbed his hand and squeezed it quickly before dropping it again. 

“Night, Jeff,” Kent said. 

“Still weird when you call me that,” Jeff said, but he couldn’t hide his grin when he looked back to see Kent smiling at him for the first time in days. 

 

* * *

  
  


“Move, squirt,” Kent ordered the next morning as he walked by Jeff and Marchy on the plane. Jeff looked up from where he had been bent over his phone texting with his sister to see Kent kicking Marchy out of the seat next to Jeff. Marchy argued it for a minute, but Kent was completely unmoved by his whining and Jeff just shrugged when Marchy tried to appeal to him. Marchy finally sulked off to the back of the plane to sit with Lias and some of the rookies. 

“Abusing your power?” Jeff asked when Kent sat down. His heart flipped in his chest when Kent smiled at him and winked and Jeff wanted to kick himself for how easy he was. Kent settled himself in, but didn’t speak to Jeff again until they’d taken off. 

“Swoops,” he said softly, turning his face to look at Jeff. Jeff looked up from his card game on his iPad. “I didn’t say so last night, but I’m sorry too. I was asshole about it and I didn’t have to be.”

Jeff wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it wasn’t that. He blinked at Kent for a few beats and wished fervently they weren’t on a plane full of their teammates so he could properly jump Kent or at least grab his hand. It had been less than a week since they’d first fought but it had felt like an eternity after so long of stealing every minute possible with Kent. The way Kent was looking back at him confirmed that the feeling was at least mutual. Jeff tore his gaze away from Kent’s before his body started something that he wouldn’t be able to follow through with right then and nodded before rubbing his face and smiling at Kent. 

“I hate when we’re not talking,” Jeff said, barely above a whisper. He wasn’t sure Kent heard him at first, but then Kent’s eyes went strangely watery and he looked away. 

“Yeah,” Kent said in the same whisper. “Same. Let’s not do it again.”

“Agreed,” Jeff said. He knocked his knuckles against Kent’s and Kent’s pinkie wrapped around his for the briefest second before letting go. It felt like a promise and it was one Jeff was glad to keep. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Most nights when he lay naked and content with Kent in bed next to him, Jeff felt like he was on the cusp of something bigger and more serious with Kent. They never talked much about it. Jeff was okay with leaving it unsaid between them for now. There was no way to miss Kent’s feelings, loud and usually easy to read in his actions and inactions, and Jeff hoped it was the same for him. They fell into an easy schedule together now that Jeff was back on the road, if not yet playing again. Jeff often only saw his own condo long enough to grab clean clothes so he could get back to Kent’s place because leaving Kit alone when he wasn’t on the road was mostly a non-starter with Kent. It worked. It was good. Great, even. 

They were two weeks out from the playoffs and three points away from clinching a playoffs spot when Jeff was finally cleared to play in a home game against the Aeros. When Jeff skated onto the ice for warm-ups, right behind Kent as always, there was a deafening cheer among the waiting fans and he raised a stick to salute them. Kent knocked his shoulder playfully before darting off to start drills and Jeff grinned as he followed him. He banged on the glass in every spot he saw a sign with his name or number on it and by the time warm-ups were done, he couldn’t stop smiling. 

“Don’t let it go to your head, Swoops,” Marchy yelled at him as he left the ice and Jeff lingered to sign a few posters. “You know they’ll all be back to trying to get selfies with Parser next week.”

“Fuck off, Marchy,” Kent said even as he swatted Jeff on the butt with his stick as he walked past. Jeff shook his head and followed them both down the tunnel after signing one last poster and waving to the crowd again. Kent was waiting for him at the end of the hallway and Jeff grinned at him. 

Twenty minutes later, they stood next to each other for the anthem and Jeff’s giddiness at being back on the ice seemed to be infectious among the Aces, all of them running high as they revved up for the game. As soon as the lights came up on the ice, Kent turned to him and raised his eyebrows as he grinned around the mouthguard hanging out of his mouth. Jeff hated how stupidly handsome he looked while he did it.

“You ready for this, babe?” Kent asked with a smirk, as if he knew exactly what Jeff was thinking. 

“Stop flirting and take the fucking draw, Parson,” Grenier from the Aeros grumbled as he skated up to the circle. Kent laughed and winked at Jeff before pushing his mouthguard in and taking his place at faceoff circle. He won it cleanly with another ringing laugh. 

Fuck. Jeff was pretty sure he was in love. 

  
  
  
  



End file.
